


Changing Places

by DrkVrtx



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-09 13:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3252242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrkVrtx/pseuds/DrkVrtx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kuvira reinvents the wheel, Korra reforms the prison system, and Asami ravages the soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"You're thinking about this too hard. Just get her some flowers, man."

Said man wrinkles his brow. "Flowers?"

His fellow guard refrains from rolling her eyes. "You've been with this girl for what, two months?"

"One. We met a month ago tomorrow," the man tells her as they come to a stop. "I want to celebrate, make it special, you know?"

"Flowers are special," the uniformed woman replies dryly, folding her large arms as she leans against the wall.

The man shakes his head. "You don't understand. She's the one."

"Of course."

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing. Just reminding myself how dumb young love is."

It takes the man a moment to be properly offended. "Hey!"

"Listen to the lady, kid," a gruff voice interrupts him. "Flowers don't reek of desperate."

"You shut up," the female guard asserts sharply, rattling the bars of the prisoner's cell with her baton.

The younger man with whom she is making the rounds this morning opens his mouth to speak -

_"ALL AVAILABLE PERSONNEL REPORT TO THE MAXIMUM SECURITY WING IMMEDIATELY. LEVEL THREE LOCKDOWN IS IN EFFECT. REPEAT, ALL AVAILABLE PERSONNEL..."_

The two guards turn to one another as the echoing voice fills the corridor, blasting out of the PA system. The man's face is a collection of small circles, eyes wide and mouth open in shock. He has barely been on the job for a month. Level _Three_ lockdown? He's just about got to grips with the prison's rudimentary security measures. Meanwhile, the woman's perpetual expression of boredom shifts, for the first time in his experience, towards something else. She lifts her head like a gossip in a coffee shop, nostrils flared. The job isn't the most exciting thing in the world, but looking for action in a _prison_ of all places? The young man hopes he's reading the piqued curve of her thin lips the wrong way.

Especially when everyone knows who lives down in the Maximum Security Wing.

* * *

Korra flops down onto the plush leather sofa with a big, appreciative sigh. "I love the weekends."

"I know, you're always reminding me," replies a familiar, richly smooth voice. "I'm convinced that with you around, I should hardly ever have need of a calendar."

Lying on her back, Korra turns her head to watch Asami walk into the study. Even on a casual morning, her dress sense is as sharp as her mind.

"Bet you're happy Yin and her brood have finally moved out."

"Korra," Asami admonishes, carrying a pile of documents in her arms. She sets them down onto her mahogany desk, which sits in front of a tall bookcase.

She shrugs, the back of her head resting on her palms. "I'm just saying what we both know you're thinking."

"Well, you're wrong."

"Sure I am."

Asami takes a moment to align the edges of her papers. "Truth be told, I'm ecstatic."

Korra grins. "I'm surprised you managed to be so patient with them."

"I was not going to kick Mako and Bolin's grandmother out onto the street, now, was I?"

"It occurred to you," Korra jests, "didn't it?"

"Don't be silly. Yin is a lovely woman, really," Asami says, "and her family could be charming at times."

Korra gestures without even looking back at her. "But?"

Asami relents with a sigh. "I like my things to stay where I put them. This place is a mess."

"Well, at least you're back in charge of your own cleaning services now."

"Indeed," Asami replies, walking away from the desk, "and while we're on the subject, please get your boots off my furniture."

Korra groans petulantly, peeling her boots off with her feet. They fall to the floor with a dull thump after she pokes them over the edge of the sofa.

"You're terrible," Asami says tonelessly, "scooch."

She sinks into the sofa when Korra wriggles down a bit, letting her legs dangle over its arm. Pulling her own up onto the seat, Asami reaches down afterwards and threads her fingers into Korra's hair.

"It's getting longer," she observes.

Korra slides a hand out from underneath her head and tugs a dark lock into view. "Hmm. I'll have to book a date with a pair of scissors."

"So you can mangle your hair, again?"

Korra's chuckle is pained with embarrassment. "Alright, alright. Quit reminding me."

The almost unmitigated disaster that was an attempt to trim her own locks is still a fresh, cheek-warming memory.

Asami sighs quietly. "Petty grievances aside, I do hope Yin and her family manage to settle in Zaofu."

"I'm sure they will," Korra replies, merging with Asami's diverted train of thought. "Suyin will be good to them. Besides, Republic City wasn't really their kind of town."

"It won't be anyone's at this rate. The Restoration Initiative is little more than a farce."

Four months have passed since the Colossus levelled half of the city; however, almost five have passed since Korra and Asami took a spontaneous trip away from home. Time follows a different course in the Spirit World, something which the girls discover at the chagrin of the many folk they left without personally informing. What to them seems only four days is in reality close to three weeks when they emerge from the golden portal. And Asami is abuzz with ideas.

To Korra's amusement, it's not long into their vacation before the woman starts talking about work. Asami quickly becomes obsessed with spirit vines, largely because upon seeing them she remembers that her most prominent business rival is already several steps ahead of her in the race to harness spirit energy.

_"Race?" Korra says. "I, uh, think Varrick already won it."_

_"To make a weapon," Asami counters with a flourish of her unfailingly luxurious hair. "I'm going to create an industry."_

Upon their return, however, Tenzin and Korra's father make them both quite apologetic with a lecture neither young woman can say a word against in rebuttal. Eager to leave, the pair, upon agreeing to tell the first person whose path they crossed of their plans, came across a child, one with an infamous reputation for tall tales. Ikki is nowhere to be found when Korra later seeks her out with the intention of giving the girl a good grilling.

"We're talking about returning Republic City to its former glory. It'll take time."

"Time, sure," Asami replies as Korra sits up, "but with most of the population's competent builders having been turned into refugees, we barely have the manpower. Even with the President's supposed commitments, the roads and train lines are still a disaster. Satomobile sales are plummeting and my renovation of the public transport system has been rubbished!"

Korra awkwardly rubs the back of her neck. "At...least you still have the mansion?"

Asami's smile is bitter. "At what point do you think it'll be taken from me, when someone realises I haven't paid the bills or when they catch on to the fact I'm funding the Restoration Initiative with nothing but promises?"

"That isn't fair," Korra says as the telephone on the desk begins to shrilly ring. "Raiko didn't you give a choice, you or any of the other big industrialists."

"Yes, well," Asami replies, rising up off the sofa with reluctance and setting a hand to the glossy black receiver, "the definition of 'fair' is one of life's many mysteries."

Korra listens as she inquires after the caller's identity. Moments later, Asami is gesturing towards her.

Arching a curious brow, Korra stands to her feet. "Who is it?" she whispers.

Asami holds out the telephone. "The devil himself."

"President Raiko?"

"Good morning, Avatar Korra," the man's voice filters through into her ear, "I'm afraid I must skip conventional pleasantries. We have an urgent situation on our hands."

Her mouth tightens. "I'm listening."

Less than a minute later, Korra has thrown down the receiver onto its cradle.

"What's wrong?" Asami asks, frowning anxiously.

"I have to go."

"What? Why?"

"I'll tell you later," Korra calls over her shoulder, already halfway out the room. And then she's gone.

* * *

Two guards escort Korra through the prison. The bulky, intimidating presence of the woman is in stark contrast to the leanly built and somewhat awkward young man partnered up with her. Predictably, he does much less of the talking.

"You're not going to believe it, ma'am, absolutely not going to believe it."

Korra is about to remind the female guard again that she doesn't need to refer to her as "ma'am", but then doing so would garner as much success as asking what in the world she's talking about. In fact, that is something Korra has been asking everyone she comes into contact with since her cryptic telephone conversation with President Raiko. Everyone seems to be in on the big secret and no one is willing to tell her just what that is.

"...not going to believe it, ma'am. Hardly could myself."

Korra rolls her eyes. The other guard suddenly speaks up and she gladly turns to hear him out.

"Hey, Avatar Korra, you're a woman," the man says.

She blinks. "I...am?"

Not that Korra doubts the fact, she thinks, though the tone of the man's statement, like a great revelation, almost makes her question herself. Missing the look on her face, he presses on.

"I have a girlfriend. It's our one month anniversary tomorrow and everyone keeps telling me to just buy her flowers. What do you think, as a woman?"

Nonplussed, Korra is surprised by just how grateful she is for the female guard's interruption.

"For crying out loud, man, don't waste her time with that nonsense! Look, we're almost there now," the woman says as they turn onto the corridor, occupied by a tall, windowed booth standing in front a solid metal gate. "You won't believe your eyes when you see it, ma'am. You just won't believe it."

"I'm sure I won't," Korra intones, signing and handing back the register to the officer staffing the booth. She is more than delighted to leave the pair of guards behind as the gate mechanically swings open and she steps into the Maximum Security Wing.

The door of the cell is open. A selection of armed guards are congregated in a loose semi-circle in front of it. Not a single one of them looks remotely comfortable, even at Korra's presence. Even Chief Beifong, who stands with arms folded staunchly across polished armour, wears an unsettled frown. Each and every one of them seems reluctant to cross the threshold and share the room beyond with its occupant. Korra's eyes pass over the men and women in turn, meeting Lin's last. She merely jerks her head at the cell.

Her insistent escort was, indeed, correct. Korra is barely aware of her feet carrying her forward. She takes in the thick pair of chains, bored into the ceiling, which would hold aloft their captive. She takes in the shackles, wrought menacingly thick and heavy, which bound together the ankles. And she takes in the simple block, raised up through a floor several inches thick, upon which sits a woman in dirty, ragged green overalls, her back rigid and cold jade eyes looking straight ahead.

Korra's gaze sweeps over the room. The walls, the restraints and solid manacles locked tightly over the woman's hands...everything, in this room - _everything_ , is made of platinum. And all of it is an absolute waste.

Clenching her fists, Korra finds the woman's eyes. "Enough is enough," she says, and then her voice brooks no argument. "You're coming with me."

Kuvira slowly stands to her feet. The last of her chains clatters to the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

"She can bend platinum."

The man leans forward over his office desk, jabbing a meaty finger at her. "That gives you no right, Avatar Korra, to simply remove the prisoner from her cell. Chief! You're with me on this, aren't you?"

Arms folded, Lin lifts her shoulders. "She can bend platinum, Warden."

Furiously impatient eyes turn to the man on Korra's left. "President Raiko!"

He shakes his head, pushing his spectacles up to sit squarely on his nose. "My good man, she can bend _platinum_."

The Warden throws his hands up into the air in exasperated defeat. "How about I just hand in my resignation now and you people take over the running of this place instead?"

"Leaving Kuvira in that room was pointless," Korra argues.

"It is a _cell_ , meant to contain _prisoners_."

"And she busted it wide open! She sat there and made us all look stupid for trying. This place can't hold her anymore."

"Then we ship her off," the Warden decides on the spot. "She is no longer our problem, if that's the case. The Fire Nation will -"

"- not have her," Raiko calmly interjects. "Firelord Izumi will not loosen her purse strings to help us rebuild; it is highly likely she will refuse to deal with even more of our baggage."

"Fine," the Warden says dismissively, "then one of the Water Tribes should -"

"Do what?" Korra interrupts him, arching her brow. "Place her in a cage deep under the _ground_?"

"Then the Earth Kingdom -!"

"Please," Lin butts in. "Ba Sing Se is in ruins and Prince - King Wu is as incompetent as everyone said he would be. Put Kuvira in the Earth Kingdom's hands and all we will have is bloody revolution."

The Warden sourly turns back to Raiko. "Can we just have her executed and be done with it?"

"For the sake of your career, I will make no mental record of that query."

The man spreads his hands, wearing a tight smile. "You're giving me very few alternatives."

"I have one," Korra says, standing tall as she looks between her captive audience. "We have Kuvira teach platinumbending."

Everyone is looking at her strangely afterwards. Lin finally breaks the silence.

"Kindly elaborate, Avatar."

"Fine," she says, and takes a deep breath.

For starters, there's the issue of cost; Raiko has to pay through the nose to have Kuvira's cell built. The only reason it does not cost more is the fact that there is an abundance of platinum lying around when the Colossus is finally dismantled. This, however, takes time, so for over a month the disgraced woman is shipped off into the mountains to share Zaheer's prison under the heavily watchful eye of a round-the-clock guard, trussed up in a wooden box suspended by thick rope tens of metres above a deep, natural body of water. Men don't work for free, so each and every guard must be paid. Not to mention those conducting the thorough screening checks to weed out Kuvira's zealots; they too demand a wage. And so on and so forth.

That leads on to the next point, one Korra has been considering long and hard. The manner of the woman's incarceration is all but extravagant; Korra must crane her head to meet Kuvira's eyes, the woman strung up and attached to the ceiling. She enquires and is told no, it has been determined that under no circumstances is the once Great Uniter to be unchained. She is too dangerous. How many more benders are deemed thus, and how much does it cost Republic City to imprison them effectively? Korra does the research; too many, and far too much.

"Such excessive spending is needless now," she continues. "We have the answer to that problem: platinum."

Its melting point being significantly higher than that of steel and iron, no firebender alive can produce flames hot enough without inflicting extreme, debilitating and very likely fatal injury to themselves first (Unless Sozin's Comet lit up the sky, but that event is over twenty years down the line); waterbenders are never in the vicinity of a source large enough to do any real damage to fellow human beings, much less platinum (the creation of an abrasive, high pressure water cutting technique decades in the making), and the sheer purity of the metal puts it beyond the bending influence of every man and woman in the world. Except one.

"There are tons upon tons of platinum lying in storage because no one knows how or has the capability to work with it," Korra says, turned to face Raiko in particular. "Once Kuvira passes on the skill, we can start building facilities to detain the most dangerous benders, and all that money currently being used to keep them under secure lock and key could instead be put towards something else...like funding the Restoration Initiative, perhaps?"

The President mulls over her idea. "That, Avatar Korra, is an interesting proposal. And it certainly wouldn't hurt my public approval rating."

"Which has been dismal lately," Korra helpfully reminds him, "and not just publicly."

"Yes, indeed," the man replies distractedly, deep in thought as he strokes his chin. "Hm. Why not? Let's do it."

Despite it being her idea, Korra blinks in surprise. "Wait, just like that?"

Raiko shrugs. "Of course. I can't imagine there is any reason to wait around, do you?"

"I do," Lin and the Warden speak in unison.

Korra turns to the Chief, pre-emptively arguing her corner. "I don't see how this is anything but good for you. The Police gets to free up resources and has more space to fill with criminals."

Lin gives a moment's pause. "Who would you have Kuvira teach platinumbending to?"

"Builders, architects - the one that are left, at least."

"No," the woman says sharply, "she'll train my metalbenders first. I won't have your everyday civilian being ahead of the curve over Republic City's law enforcement. That is asking for trouble."

Korra frowns. "Oh...kay, but that will only delay the progress of the Restoration Initiative even further."

"You won't have my support otherwise," Lin tells her. Both turn to the President as he carefully clears his throat.

"I find myself in agreement with the Chief," Raiko says. "I believe the public would support this decision."

Lin gives the man a curt, approving nod.

"Alright," Korra relents, just a little deflated, "I suppose that only makes sense."

Raiko claps his hands together and smiles behind his spectacles. "Wonderful."

"Excuse me?" All eyes turn as the Warden waves his hand to earn everyone's attention. "Would someone mind telling me exactly what you plan to do with the prisoner in the meantime? Or am I to understand she is no longer a prisoner?"

Lin glances across at Korra. "A prison cell no longer lives up to its definition when the occupant can step out the door at their leisure."

"So, what, she's just going to be allowed to walk free? You can commit career suicide, Chief Beifong," the man tells her, "but I will not be joining you."

Lin merely rolls her eyes. "Warden, Kuvira could have ruined your entire life an hour ago at a whim. Instead of tearing this place down around your head, she chose to sit and wait after cracking her _platinum_ cell wide open . She sent us a message, one much more poignant than simply breaking out of prison."

"Which is...?"

"We can't hold her, but she won't run."

"Oh, I'm sure."

"So she'll be put under house arrest," Lin continues. "Kuvira will stay with me."

"Marvellous," Raiko says brightly, "all the details are settled."

"Hold on now!" the Warden cries.

"My good man, it is _settled_. Unless you wish the callous call for the execution of a woman in your supposed care to reach undesirable ears?"

The Warden grumbles and shakes his head.

"Excellent," Raiko replies. "All that is left, I think, is to consider the prisoner's opinion of our intentions."

"That would be prudent," Lin says.

Korra nods. "I agree."

And all three turn to face the woman, sitting quietly behind them with her hands folded into her lap.

"Well, Kuvira, what do you think?"

Her expression utterly plain, she lifts her eyes to regard each of them in turn and finally settles on the Avatar.

"I am in your service," Kuvira duly responds.

* * *

"I may have gotten you a break," Korra says some time later, sitting at Asami's kitchen table.

"Oh? What's that?"

"The President is going to shift a big surplus of cash towards funding the Restoration Initiative. That should ease up the pressure on you, right?"

Asami chuckles softly, glancing up from the pot she's stirring. "If only it were that simple, Korra."

She frowns. "It isn't?"

"I wish it was," Asami says, "but unfortunately, no. Is that where you ran off to so urgently this morning, to play my accountant?"

"Uh, not quite."

"You still haven't told me what that call from Raiko was about."

Korra laughs, nervously. "Can't talk on an empty stomach! By the way, that smells really good."

"It's your mother's recipe."

"You pull it off well," Korra says with an appreciative sniff.

"I'm a quick study," Asami replies. "Now spill the beans, or you won't be having any noodles. Raiko is stringent about budgeting, how did you convince him to re-purpose those funds you mentioned?"

"I told him he was publicly - and privately - disapproved of."

"Seriously, Korra."

"I got him to reconsider how the prison system currently deals with dangerous criminal benders."

Asami looks up, turning with genuine surprise on her face. "Oh." She blinks. "What prompted that then?"

Korra scratches her neck. "There was an incident at one of the prisons this morning."

"What happened?"

"She - the, uh, prisoner broke open her cell."

"Really? How?"

Korra hesitates. "With platinumbending."

"But I thought you couldn't bend platinum..."

"That's what we all thought, but she - uh, the prisoner, can. We don't know how."

"Korra," Asami says with an odd tone, "who is 'she'?"

She struggles to meet the woman's eyes. "Kuvira," Korra murmurs.

There is a moment of poignant silence.

"You had better tell me she's been locked up again," Asami says sharply, banging the wooden spoon against the inside of the pot, "even tighter this time."

"Ah, no," Korra stammers in reply, rubbing the back of her neck. "Actually, I... kind of...got Kuvira out of prison."

Asami stops stirring. "You did _what_?"

"There was no point keeping her in there; she could just break out whenever she wanted! Besides she didn't even try to escape in the first place."

"Are you insane?" Asami hisses with vehemence. "That woman is dangerous. She is a murderer!"

"She isn't! Kuvira isn't dangerous, I mean," Korra quickly amends when Asami stiffens, "not anymore. She can be useful now."

"And how the hell would you know that?"

"Because I...I've been visiting her."

For a moment Korra is worried the kitchen is about to explode. Instead, Asami turns a dark, piercing glare on her.

"Get out."

Korra's eyes uneasily shift towards the pot of noodles. Her stomach is aching and the room is perfumed with the aroma of her favourite dish. She wets her lips with her tongue.

"Asami," she tries, "we should talk about this properly -"

"Out!"

Damn it.


	3. Chapter 3

The sound of a door being thrown open jolts Korra awake. Her head jerks up and a too-thin sheet slips off her arms and chest to pool messily onto the floor. She rubs her eyes with an internal groan as Asami walks into the study. The sofa stops being comfortable after extended periods of time. Two nights in a row and Korra still hasn't gotten used to it. Plus it's too easy to roll right off the damn thing.

"Where are you going?" Korra mumbles, mouth thick with the taste of morning breath.

Asami, as she sets down a small briefcase, does not reply. Instead, she takes a seat behind the desk and begins a thorough search through her papers. A yawn forces Korra's mouth wide open and she hears her jaw crack. She searches with bleary eyes afterwards for the clock, and upon finding the timepiece affixed to the wall above the bookcase her suspicions are confirmed.

"It's too early for you to be going in for work, isn't it?" Korra asks, pushing a hand up into thickly tousled hair as she sits up.

"That's because I'm not going to work," Asami tonelessly replies, leaning over a pile of documents.

"You're...certainly dressed for the occasion."

The woman impatiently sweeps a dark, glossy lock over her shoulder as it falls out of place. "I have a meeting to attend."

"Oh." Korra drums her fingers along the back of her hand, surreptitiously glancing over Asami's sharp attire. "With who?"

"The President."

"Oh. Why?"

"To offer him a better alternative to your absurd idea."

"Oh - wait, what?"

"You heard me."

Korra throws the sheet entirely off of herself and scrambles to her feet. "Asami, what are you talking about?"

"I am referring to your grand plan, the one in which you excuse a war criminal of her crimes in the hopes she will teach the secret to an apparently impossible form of bending."

"She's not being excused of anything."

"You're letting Kuvira out of prison - "

"Conditionally," Korra argues.

"- and putting her under house arrest? It may as well amount to the same thing."

"Except it doesn't."

"I don't care for the technicalities," Asami says dismissively.

"Well you should, because they make the difference," Korra replies, standing in front of her desk as she watches the woman rummage through one of the filing drawers. "What are you even looking for?"

It takes Asami a long moment to answer, though when she does it's with a thick binder in hand. "This."

"And that is...?"

"Plans I'm going to present to Raiko," Asami says, flipping it open.

"Plans for...?"

"A machine that can remove bending."

She speaks without a trace of hesitation. Korra stares at her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

"Come...c-come again?" she eventually manages.

"Varrick has discovered that spirit vines can be used to store several different forms of energy," Asami begins explaining, not even looking at Korra as she flips through the binder. "That energy, be it heat, electrical or what have you, is converted into spirit energy, and the capacity of just a single vine is tremendous. Two months ago, Varrick proposed a new, frankly revolutionary idea for the manner in which a vine's potential can be used. On the condition that he would share with me his research, I've been building Varrick a machine that will extract an individual's bending and transfer it to be stored as spirit energy within a vine."

"You...that's not possible," Korra whispers.

Asami sighs in business-like fashion. "I'm getting ahead of myself. Theoretically, the machine will be drawing chi from the natural pathways of the body. We have already mapped the layouts specific to each element and can calibrate the machine accordingly. With chi being the root of the art, siphoning that from the individual should in theory take with it their bending. The project, however, is still in the experimental phase."

Korra's jaw is loose in utter disbelief. "Why would you make such a thing?"

"For Varrick, as always, it's about money. He wants to turn bending into a product. First, however, he will need to figure out how to convert spirit energy back into its original form."

"And you?"

Asami shrugs. "Future Industries needs to stay ahead of the curve."

"You're talking about taking away someone's bending!"

"What does it matter," Asami says, "when the bending being taken belongs to a criminal."

Korra fumes. "Why am I only finding out about this now?"

"Oh, like how you told me about your weekly visits to Kuvira?"

Korra shrinks under the weight of her glare. "I knew it would upset you."

"I wonder why."

"You want to use this - this _thing_ on her."

"It is a far simpler alternative to the idea you somehow managed to convince Raiko was a good one," Asami replies, closing the lid on her briefcase. "Kuvira will pose no threat to anyone after her bending has been removed. She can be locked up in a cell like any other prisoner and serve her time."

"Asami," Korra pleads, "you're talking about ripping away an intrinsic part of another human being; you're tearing apart their identity as a person. You have to see that this is wrong on so many levels -"

"She killed my father!"

Silence reigns in the wake of a pair of fists slamming down onto the desk. Asami's eyes are hot and angry as she looks up at Korra.

"You may have, but _I_ will not forget what that woman did," she says coldly, gathering up her things. "Now excuse me. I'm already running late."

Helpless, Korra can only watch as Asami slams the door shut behind her.

* * *

Kuvira is an impatient teacher, but she does not scream and yell at her students' incompetence. She simply loses interest in them. As it happens, with a dozen or so metalbenders occupying the hall, each with a small pile of scrap platinum sitting before them, the only individual that currently holds the woman's attention is the Avatar.

"This isn't going well," Korra observes, biting her lip.

"No."

"Perhaps...maybe you shouldn't give up on them so easily?"

Kuvira shrugs. "It would make little difference."

"You don't know that unless you try," Korra says.

She can hear the frustration in her own voice as Kuvira turns to look at her. The woman's face is pale, her cheeks hollow. Denied the skilful exaggeration of makeup, her dark eyebrows are no longer so fiercely emphasised. She looks thin, almost sickly under unflattering light. The line of her mouth is flat, curving downwards at the corners. Korra has never seen Kuvira smile.

"They won't make any progress like this," the woman tells her tonelessly. She stands with her feet apart and hands folded behind her; old habits. "It's too safe."

"So it needs to be dangerous?"

"It needs to be practical."

Korra lifts her hands. "I don't have any idea what that means, Kuvira. You're the one who can platinumbend. You have to take the lead here."

"I don't believe I am permitted to," the woman says, raising an arm to make a gesture.

Korra watches the police officers lining the walls of the hall stiffen even as Kuvira points her attention towards them. More are on alert outside.

"I'm not a good teacher," Kuvira tells her. "Were I one, these conditions are still less than ideal."

"You're all we have," Korra replies, "and I'm afraid this is all you're going to get."

The woman closes her eyes and audibly exhales. Korra presses on.

"Kuvira, you _have_ to try. Besides, this is only your first class!"

Her burst of enthusiastic cheer earns Korra a sidelong glance. Kuvira sighs.

"Fine."

Korra watches as she steps forward again to engage with her reluctant students. The tension in the hall is as thick as Kuvira's hair - or at least as much as it used to be. Now her hair is coarse and dry, falling to the small of her back in a long braid that lightly sways in time with her rigid gait. Gone are her prison overalls, replaced by simple, loose trousers and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Gone too is the firm, healthy tone of the woman's body. She's softer in places and harder in others; the results of a diet beyond her control. Korra frowns deeply.

Other worries help etch the lines into her face. She has still heard nothing of Asami's meeting. Korra only hopes Raiko is sensible enough to see her proposal for what it is, but then Asami has always had a silver tongue. And Varrick has always had the President's ear.

"Excuse me, Avatar Korra?"

She jumps. The officer now standing at her side jumps too.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you -"

"It's fine," she assures him, trying to laugh off her reaction. "I was in another world."

"The Chief sent me to tell you she needs to talk to you."

"Right now?"

"Yes, ma'am - I mean, Avatar Korra," the man quickly corrects.

She doesn't like being called 'ma'am'.

Kuvira assures her rather plainly that she can be safely left alone for several minutes without Korra's supervision, and afterwards she finds herself standing in Lin's office. The woman turns away from her desk as Korra closes the door behind her, arms folded across her chest.

"I just received a call from the President," Lin says, straight to the point. Korra pauses, under the sharp gaze of the Chief feeling for some reason that she's about to get told off.

"Uh, okay?"

"Following a meeting with your pair of industrialist friends this morning, Raiko has extended us - you and I - an invitation to a demonstration of their newest piece of technology."

Korra finds it difficult to swallow. "Did...did he tell what exactly it does?"

Lin purses her lips. "I am in the dark. Raiko believes this is something I - _we_ all need to see with our own eyes." Lin's narrow at her. "You look like you already know."

Korra shakes her head quickly, a lock of hair falling across her brow. "Did he say when the demonstration is taking place?"

"In three days."

She practically bolts from office.


	4. Chapter 4

In the same moment she twists the handle, the door to the President's office is pulled open from the other side. Consequentially, Korra's face bounces off the man's chest when the action yanks her forward, a cry of surprise muffled by Raiko's shirt and tie.

"Avatar Korra," the man says with bemusement, as she straightens and quickly sweeps strands of hair out of her eyes.

"Ah, sorry," she apologies, cheeks flush, "I didn't know you were there. Behind the door, I mean."

Raiko nods. "I was just leaving."

"Leaving?"

"I have a meeting to attend, down in the Council Chamber."

"I need to talk to you first," Korra says urgently.

"It will have to wait," Raiko replies, and politely pushes her to one side.

Korra blinks in the wake of her apparent dismissal. The President pulls his office door shut behind him and, with a sheaf of papers in hand and not a single look back, takes off with a long stride down one of the old, decorated corridors of City Hall. Korra shakes herself and chases after him.

"It can't!" she calls, her shorter legs working to match the man's pace. "This is important."

Raiko adjusts his spectacles with a finger. "I am very sorry, Avatar Korra, but I am not at your beck and call."

She races ahead and then turns to stand in front of him. "You have to cancel the demonstration for Asami and Varrick's machine."

The President arches his brow. "And why would I be inclined to do that?"

"Do you even understand what that thing does?"

"Its purpose and functionality were explained to me in exquisite detail -"

"And you  _still_  want to go ahead with it."

"Certainly," the man says, "it was proposed as a counterpoint and potential alternative to our original idea to allow Kuvira to tutor in the art of platinumbending. As it was presented to me, the existence of the machine permits an all around more efficient method of dealing with dangerous benders. Removal of their bending means they can be placed securely in the facilities already available to the city, rendering the construction of extensive platinum facilities needless - a both timely and costly initiative."

"Yes, but -"

"Also, an idea which did not occur fully to us in the moment: use of the machine eliminates the potential risk of individuals who would otherwise have learned platinumbending turning, in essence, rogue. I'm sure you can imagine that would be a devastating blow to the public's confidence in the Police, for instance, with Lin's insistence that elite metalbending units be first in line for tutelage."

Korra hadn't thought of that.

"And, of course, there is the issue of Kuvira herself. I dare say the public would side favourably with the machine's use in her case. Even by virtue of being alive, the woman is considered a great threat to national and international security."

"You can't be serious."

The President lifts a hand. "It is merely a discussion for now, Avatar Korra, not a decision."

"You're talking about taking away someone's bending," she hisses, "undoubtedly without consent!"

Raiko walks around her. "I understand; it is an unfortunate circumstance."

"No, you don't," Korra retorts hotly, shadowing the man's footsteps down the steps that lead to the main floor, "how could you? You're a nonbender - all three of you! You don't know what it's like to have something like that stripped from you.  _I do._ "

"Avatar Korra, please," Raiko says, holding up an arm as she tries to pace at his side, "this conversation cannot be had right at this moment."

"But it must," she argues. "President Raiko, I am pleading with you not to allow this demonstration to go ahead."

"My apologies," the man says as they cross the bustling atrium and reach the tall, grand doors of the Council Chamber, "but we will have to continue this at another time."

Korra plants her hand above the polished door handle when Raiko reaches for it. "The machine is experimental, how do you even know it will work as intended?"

The man smiles thinly at her. "And who should I defer to concerning its technicalities, Avatar Korra, the inventor, or its staunchest detractor?"

Her hand slips down as Raiko pulls open the Chamber door, clenching into a fist when it slams shut in her face.

* * *

"Damn it!"

Kuvira rises up from behind the kitchen counter, looking through the hole in the wall into the living room. "Is it too hot?"

"What?" Korra says, her palm lightly stinging after being slapped down onto the glass coffee table. "No, no. I was just...thinking."

Raiko has done an excellent job dodging and avoiding her over the past two days. Since their last 'meeting' she has not exchanged a proper word with him. Time is fast running out.

"You do not look entirely at ease," Kuvira observes as she walks out of the kitchen with her own mug in hand. Korra looks up to see her take a gentle sip of the beverage.

"You know, I'm surprised the Chief hasn't locked you - or at least tried to - in one of the bedrooms when she's away."

"Lin takes quite the hands-off approach regarding my situation," Kuvira says, "perhaps because she is not too sure whether or not to consider me part of the Beifong family." She looks down into the contents of her mug. "Or, more likely, it is due to the confidence she places in the many men and women she has watching this building."

Korra glances around the place as Kuvira speaks. The disciplined frugality of the elder Beifong sibling, to her initial and still persisting astonishment, is lost on the apartment. The space is large and stylishly furnished, bearing the resemblance of a lavish hotel suite. Korra supposes that after all the woman has done, she cannot deny Lin has more than earned herself the extravagence.

"So, what do you do when she's here?"

"Lin only appears to use this apartment as a place to sleep," Kuvira responds, walking over to the sofa positioned perpendicular to Korra's.

"Where do you sleep?"

"In the guest room."

"And the Chief?"

"For the last two nights? On that sofa," Kuvira says, "facing the guest room."

"I see." Korra imagines the woman sleeping with one eye open, perhaps even literally. "Well, you seem to be comfortable enough here," she says, considering the plain, beige mug of green tea she holds in her hand.

"You should drink some," Kuvira tells her, taking a sip of her own. "it will help take the edge off your mood."

Korra only frowns.

"Or perhaps not?"

Korra places her mug back onto the coffee table. "No one is showing even the remotest signs of being able to platinumbend yet."

Kuvira closes her eyes and sighs. "No, they aren't. I'm doing what I can with what I've got. I suppose the expected thing to say here is that it will take time."

"You don't have the luxury."

"Lin's metalbenders do not want to learn from me. There is too much tension between teacher and student."

"Well, that's tough."

"Teaching is hardly my forte, Korra. Especially in these conditions, as I have already said."

"You're all we have," she fires back, "as I keep telling you. Spirits, how in the world did you almost build yourself an empire?"

Kuvira lowers her mug. "I made a nation fear me, Korra. I did not ask; I gave you no choice but to respect me."

"I know, but aren't any of those skills transferable?"

For a moment, Korra thinks, Kuvira looks like the corners of her lips are about to inch upwards. But then the woman simply lifts her tea to them instead.

"Something is bothering you," she says afterwards. "You've been persistent about my making progress from the start."

Korra sighs and rubs her temples, realising that Kuvira isn't asking but stating her accurate deductions. "There's something I need to tell you," she says. "I wish I didn't have to."

"Well?"

She looks up at Kuvira, finding the woman regarding her from behind cool green eyes. "Do you remember Asami, Asami Sato?"

"I do."

"Well, with Varrick's help she's designed a machine, one that supposedly can remove someone's bending. She...wants to use it on you," Korra says reluctantly.

"...I see."

"She and Varrick presented their case to the President on the morning of your first platinumbending session and, I learned afterwards, convinced him of its advantages," Korra continues, reiterating them for the woman's benefit. "I haven't been able to convince any of them otherwise. A demonstration of the machine is scheduled to take place, tomorrow."

"Am I invited?"

Korra is briefly confused as to whether Kuvira is asking in jest. But then the woman never smiles, let alone make a joke.

"Not to my knowledge, no."

Kuvira nods, leaning forward to place her mug on the coffee table. "It is, I suppose, a practical alternative," she says simply.

Korra blinks. "What?"

"There is no demand on time, energy or cost this way," Kuvira says as she straightens, sweeping her braid back over her shoulder. "Between that and spending weeks and months waiting for enough people to be sufficiently trained in platinumbending, if they can be at all, it's the logical choice."

Korra stares at the woman. "We're...we're talking about your  _bending_ , Kuvira!"

"Blood stains these hands." she replies. "I am a criminal, a war criminal."

"So we string you up in a cage like a damn animal?" Korra retorts. "You're as human as the rest of us."

Kuvira spends a long moment just looking at her with a piercing gaze. "Was I so pitiful that you felt you had to rescue me?"

"I hated it," Korra says quietly, "to see, week after week, the way you were being treated in there."

"You don't know the half of it."

Kuvira leans back into the sofa, lacing her fingers together atop her lap as she looks up at the ceiling. Korra wants to ask, but something in the woman's face makes her hesitant. Thoughtfulness slowly rises to her eyes.

"You mentioned that the machine can be configured to target element specific chi networks?" Kuvira says then, breaking the silence.

"So I've been told," Korra replies. "You would lose your earthbending, and by extension metalbending."

"But not, perhaps, the ability to manipulate platinum."

Korra shrugs. "If the machine doesn't work as thoroughly as intended, I suppose."

"That's not what I mean," Kuvira says. "Metalbending is performed by manipulating even minute traces of earth in the material, yes? And platinum cannot be manipulated in the same fashion because..."

"...it's too pure of a metal," Korra finishes, tilting her head. "Where are you going with this?"

"This is merely speculation," the woman replies, still gazing upwards, "but I am thinking that perhaps metalbending as we currently know it and platinumbending are not, in fact, one and the same thing."

Curiosity wrinkles Korra's brow. "Are you saying...bending platinum isn't metalbending?"

"I'm saying it is. I'm saying the ability to do so  _is_  truly metalbending."

"So..."

"If I am purged of my earthbending, it is possible that I will retain the ability to manipulate platinum. At the very least."

There is a long pause between the two women, and then -

"Kuvira," Korra says slowly, "are you sure you wanted to tell me that?"

The woman breathes deeply in and exhales. Korra watches her chest slowly fall. Kuvira opens her eyes afterwards and shrugs.

"I trust you."

The words catch her off guard. "You...do?"

"You've saved my life - more than once, and in more ways than one."

Korra isn't quite sure how to answer that, so instead she reaches towards the coffee table and afterwards hides her mouth behind a mug. Thin wisps of steam curl slowly up into the air when she lowers it again, the flavour of green tea sharp on the tip of her tongue.

"I appreciate that," Korra says.

Kuvira simply nods, and perhaps for a moment her lips are no longer so glum. "As do I."


	5. Chapter 5

In the cold, early hours of the morning, a masked man - or woman, it's difficult to tell - breaks into the Sato mansion and sneaks their way into the proprietor's study. Drawers are rifled through and stolen from its place is a thick binder, stuffed full of plans drawn up by a neat, pensive hand, and then the gender ambiguous thief silently steals away. No alarm is raised and there is no expression of shock and panic to behold. Which is thanks to the fact that at this hour Asami is to be found at Varrick's testing facilities, preparing for one, all important demonstration.

* * *

The room is bustling with people. The din of dozens of intermingling voices rises to the high ceiling and, if not for the windows being naught more than filters of natural light, would leak out into the chill air. Varrick has invited quite the audience.

A good number of Raiko's ministers are in attendance, along with the President himself; Lin stands to one side with her arms folded and wearing an uncooperative scowl as a pair of politicians interrogate her; the billionaire businessman even has a handful of reporters milling around the place, to the surprise, concern and irritation of many. Nobody likes nosy, prying journalists. Of course, these notepad and portable dictaphone wielding men and women are all high-profile and trustworthy, which in layman's terms equates to each of them being sufficiently encouraged to favourably cover the event.

Not that anything is going to wrong. Asami has seen to that.

From the other side of the room, Korra watches her engage professionally with every individual that wanders up to shake her hand and pick her brain. The shimmering scarlet curve of her lips remains in place, a friendly warmth to her expression as Asami modestly accepts praise - at least until her gaze happens to shift and she finally notices Korra's presence. There is something hard in Asami's eyes after that, a subtle tension to her jaw as Korra pries herself from the inquisitive clutches of a reporter and crosses the room. She finds herself coolly regarded once Asami apologises and a potential investor in her technology walks away.

"You're here."

"I was invited," Korra replies.

"Are you ready to stop making excuses for a criminal?"

"I'm here to try and persuade you not to go through with this."

Asami merely rolls her eyes. "That's all any conversation we've had has been about," she says, folding her arms, "and my answer isn't going to change."

"Asami -"

"Did you really expect to show up and convince me to pull the plug  _now_?"

Korra frowns and doesn't reply. It was a vain hope, yet one that has kept her restless throughout the nights.

"You just need to accept that this is happening," Asami says.

Korra doesn't know how to respond to that, particularly once the final signature on her failure is wheeled out onto the raised platform at the head of the room.

Conversation fades and fascinated eyes begin to turn as Varrick sweeps onto the stage to join his wife, who is in turn flanked by a pair of male assistants wrapped in white lab coats. Korra, meanwhile, stares with mounting dread at the contraption Asami has put together. It is composed, it seems, of two parts, and Korra is not sure which is making her skin crawl more uncomfortably.

The machine itself is a tall, ugly, rectangular box whose steel casing is a dull, grim grey; it's difficult to believe that Asami Sato could create something so devoid of aesthetic charm. Set into the face turned towards the murmuring audience is a series of knobs, dials and levers, and mounted horizontally on top of the box is a clear glass tube within which is held a thick knot of spirit vine. To either end of the tube are connected wires - in fact, there are wires of all sizes spilling out from the sides of the box, trailing along the stage and disappearing off the back of it. There are several, however, that lead towards the partnering apparatus of the machine, brought in alongside it on low, squeaky-wheeled trolleys. It's a chair. A wooden chair.

A wooden chair with thick leather straps pinned to the arms and legs, and a metal skullcap attached to the backrest overhanging the seat.

"Asami," Korra says quietly - worriedly, as Varrick spreads his arms and calls for everyone's attention, "I don't like the look of this one bit."

The woman, now standing at her side as the audience gathers in front of the stage, says nothing. Her face is set and her eyes pointed ahead. Korra can feel it deep in her bones as the machine and chair together stand before her scrutiny. This is  _wrong_ , so wrong.

"Please, Asami, you have to listen to me."

"If you are so adamant," the woman says plainly, "that this machine should not exist, why don't you simply tear it apart?"

Because as Varrick waxes lyrical, spouting lines about altruistic intent which Korra knows is from a script he didn't write, she recognises that the last-ditch plan pushed far to the back of her mind in the hope she'll never have to reach for it will only make matters worse. As the businessman succinctly puts it -

"I'd say it's high time we put our foot down, show these criminals they can't just do what they want when they want! I mean, if I can't skimp out on my employees' wages because of the  _law_ , why should rampaging benders get to keep their bending?"

Standing behind him, Zhu Li shakes her head. Korra, along with many others in the room, stares blankly at a wide-eyed, impassioned Varrick as his gaze flits from left to right. Beside her, Asami rubs her temple with an audible sigh.

"Right, well...anyway! To business, ladies and gentleman," Varrick booms, his voice carrying clearly over all their heads. "Allow me to introduce the subject of our experiment today, the infamous Red Monsoon, Bare Chest Bao!"

The man is led from behind the stage up onto it by an escort of three armoured police officers, and Korra automatically corrects in her mind Varrick's introduction. The heavyset man hauled into view of the audience is indeed without a shirt; however, he is certainly not 'bare' chested. Rather, he is 'bear' chested.

Upper torso a black mass of wiry curls, Bear Chest Bao does not necessarily cooperate with his escort, pulling them to and fro even with his hands bound together by thick steel. "No need to worry, folks," Varrick says in response to the concerned looks being passed back and forth, bouncing on his heels as the men finally throw Bear Chest Bao down onto the wooden chair. His forced descent rattles the trolley underneath and Zhu Li's assistants pounce on him in the next moment. The woman herself has crouched down in front of the machine, clipboard in hand as she begins to twist and pull at the knobs and levers. Bear Chest Bao briefly lost in the huddle of men restraining him, all eyes are on Zhu Li's back when the air rumbles as the machine comes to life.

All eyes except Korra's.

Hers find the face of Bear Chest Bao, drawn tight and ugly with a snarl as he's strapped down to the chair, and she is conflicted. The man, Varrick explains, is known to both the public and Police, with a list of violent crimes as long as her forearm - bloodbending among them. In fact, that is what finally puts him behind bars, nearly a decade ago. There are scars and ink all over his dark skin. He's a dangerous man, evidently, both in prison and out. The murderous look he wears as the police officers move away tells Korra more than enough about what he'd do to them all if he had access to his element. He won't ever have it again, if what Varrick is saying proves true.

"...channel non-lethal currents of electricity into the body, stimulating the chi network and manipulating its flow up towards the head."

Where, apparently, it will be siphoned away via the Light Chakra. Korra, for a moment, for the merest instant, is impressed. She glances aside at Asami, whose posture is tall and tight with what Korra recognises as nerves. This is different to all the other demonstrations she has ever held. This means so much more.

Bear Chest Bao curses profusely as a sponge dipped in saline is placed atop his shaven scalp, acting as a layer between it and the skullcap fastened afterwards onto his head. A wooden brace at the neck contains his bullish rage, allowing Zhu Li's assistants to work with marginal disruption. Zhu Li is merely skimming over the adjustments and calibrations she's made for the fifth time, waiting on the men as they hike up Bear Chest Bao's prison overalls and attach electrodes lubricated in conductive gel to his legs. The last thing they do before stepping away is tie a strip of heavy black cloth around the man's head.

Blind, Bear Chest Bao howls his immense displeasure. " _What the devil are you doing to me?_ "

"Calm down, man, you'll be fine!" Varrick replies jovially. "He'll be fine," he reiterates to the audience. "None of this has been tested on humans before but Ms. Sato here is, like me, a genius. You should trust her. I do. Asami!" the man suddenly calls. "Any last words?"

Korra blanches as all eyes turn in their direction. Last words?

Asami swallows as her machine emits a low, constant drone and shakes her head. "Do the thing."

"You heard the woman, honey," Varrick says, swinging his arm up to point at his wife. "Do the thing!"

Zhu Li, wearing her patented dispassionate look behind small, stylish spectacles, throws the switch.

Bear Chest Bao tightens his jaw, then he clenches his teeth, yellowed and uneven. The sudden and violent jolt of his entire body against the thick, sturdy frame of the chair makes everyone jump. If it isn't for Asami failing to react at her side, her eyes sharp, narrow and unblinking as Bear Chest Bao bodily shakes, knuckles white as he grips onto the chair and his voice a desperate whine, Korra would run forward to put the whole thing to an end. But she doesn't, because even in this perverse, utterly wrong situation, she trusts Asami. Or at least her many years of mechanical engineering.

A collective gasp is issued when the glass tube attached to the top of the humming machine begins to glow. Blue light pulses through the spirit vine held up by a pair of clasps inside it with the rhythm of a heartbeat at rest. It swiftly quickens as Bear Chest Bao's breath whistles between his teeth, a heavy sheen of sweat glistening all over his face. Not to mention the beads of moisture trapped in the bush on his chest, the black mass of hair sticking straight up as though a thousand tweezers are trying to pluck him bare.

In the meantime, another gasp is drawn when the glass tube is filled suddenly with a burst of light, blinding luminescence forcing hands up in front of narrowed eyes. Korra, standing closer to the machine's side of the stage, turns away when the glare burns spots of pain into her vision. She only hears when Zhu Li once again throws the switch, a distinct  _ker-thunk_  that with it brings the fading rumble of the machine itself.

All goes quiet. Korra slowly raises her head again. She glances around to see others doing the same, some shaking their heads to clear their vision, some squinting against the natural light. Asami, of course, comes prepared. She stands with her arms lightly folded and pair of dark, tinted glasses over her eyes. On stage, Varrick practically mimics her. Korra huffs. Couldn't she have spared her a pair?

"Test him," Asami calls out promptly.

First, however, they have to wake him. Bear Chest Bao sits slumped in the chair, head lolling against the neck brace. Zhu Li's assistants move back onto the stage, one bringing with him a bucket and the other to attend to the unconscious prisoner. Removing the man's blindfold as the bucket is set in front of the chair, the sound of the assistant sharply slapping Bear Chest Bao's cheek rings through the room.

"We'll be conducting this part of the procedure more humanely in future," Varrick comments seriously, removing his glasses and tucking them into his jacket.

 _This_  part? Korra frowns.

The assistant suddenly steps back. Bear Chest Bao awakes, and almost succeeds in sinking his teeth into the man's hand in the process. He snarls viciously up at him, at everyone - until he notices the bucket. He licks his lips and smiles all too widely. "You fools. You're all dead!" the man declares, and with a predatory grin and murderous intent his fingers splay open. But nothing happens. The water in the bucket remains unmoved. Bear Chest Bao stares at it; everyone stares at him. He tries again and again, straining forward against the chair's restraints as each time he closes and throws open his fist.

"What...what the hell?" the man blurts out. "My bending...you...you monsters...took my bending?!"

And now everyone turns to Zhu Li, who carefully detaches from the machine the glass tube and brings it forward to the front of the stage. Inside, the knot of spirit vine has fallen from its clasps, shrunken considerably as it lies against the glass. Zhu Li holds it up high for all to see: the softly glowing product of Varrick and Asami Sato's combined ingenuity. Tension subtly melts away from the latter's face and shoulders, a long held breath escaping her lips. Varrick, beaming proudly down at his wife, raises his hands as he turns to the enraptured audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we've done it. Bending in a bottle!"

And that's when the windows explode.

There is shouting, there is screaming, and there is chaos. When the dust settles and the smoke bombs finally clear, several police officers and members of the demonstration's audience are unconscious. Varrick is a small form huddled against Zhu Li and Bear Chest Bao lies face down on top of the stage with the bucket knocked askew and water pooling around his head. Asami grunts as her vision wobbles, wincing as she picks herself up off the floor. Which is when she notices that two things are missing: the machine, and the chair.

And Korra.


	6. Chapter 6

"This wire goes here, right?"

"No, you idiot,  _that_  one goes  _there_."

"Hey, you're the one with her nose buried in the instructions!"

"Stop arguing and get the damn thing working."

The sound of their voices pulls her from unconsciousness, Korra's bleary vision tilted as she slowly opens her eyes. Bright, piercing light makes her groan and press them shut again. Her neck aches something fierce thanks to her head lolling to the side like she's a passed out drunk. Korra grunts and drags herself upright.

The first thing of note when she parts her eyelids a fraction is that the bright light is a cone surrounding her completely; the room beyond it is little more than dark, shifting outlines. The second is that she can't move and it hurts to try.

Korra's shoulders are burning with every scrap of consciousness she recovers. Her hands are wrapped around the back of a hard chair, held fast with rope, her ankles tied to its legs in similar fashion. And her captors have wound several lengths around her torso, whether by accident or otherwise uncomfortably squeezing her chest. Her bust juts out from between two thick bands of rope and despite the situation Korra instinctively prioritises embarrassment, cheeks warm as she glances down at herself.

"So you're finally awake, Avatar."

Her head snaps up, eyes trying to pierce the shadows. "Where am I?"

"Doesn't matter," the male voice replies. "You should concern yourself with more important things."

Its owner steps into her circle of light, produced by a lone bulb hanging over her head. Korra glares up at him after struggling in futility against her bonds, or rather at his mask.

"You cowards. You've blocked my chi."

"Cowards," the Equalist says, "but not fools."

She can't bend a single element, not even a wisp of flame at her fingertips to burn slowly through the rope. It's been years, but the experience never truly fades away. Korra wears a harsh scowl, but beneath it she feels a prickling sense of vulnerability. It doesn't help that chi-blocking deadens her limbs too, making her feel like a sluggish sack of meat. She bares her teeth at the man standing before her, a uniform she has not laid eyes on in years draped in shadow.

"What do you want with me?" Korra growls.

The Equalist theatrically spreads his arms. "Why, to make an example of you, of course."

She's about to ask what on earth he means, but then Korra hears the squeak of trolley wheels.

Her eyes turn and grow wide as the machine is pushed into the light. She remembers the crash of glass, clouds of thick smoke clogging her nostrils and throat, fists jabbing out of nowhere and everywhere at once to render her body limp and lifeless. Then darkness. But most of all, Korra remembers Bear Chest Bao.

"No," she begs, as the chair itself is wheeled into view alongside the machine, "no, please. You can't."

"We can," the Equalist says as another hands something to him, "and we will." He holds up a thick black binder. "You can thank your friend for providing the necessary directions."

Even as he speaks, Korra watches with growing horror an Equalist begin fixing a long glass tube onto the machine. "This is wrong!" she says, and then jumps in panic when a large white sheet drops down out of nowhere and is draped over her from behind, wrapping around her throat like a giant napkin. A uniformed arm slinks over her shoulder and her eyes cross in an effort to focus on the metallic object shoved in front of them. It's a pair of manual clippers, and steel teeth bite at the air when the handles are given an experimental squeeze.

Korra's eyes bulge. "Wait, let's talk. We can talk about this!"

The first Equalist folds his hands behind his back, ignoring her plea as beside him a sponge is dipped into the contents of a plastic bowl. Eyes hidden behind wide brass goggles, the man offers Korra a soulless stare.

"Prep her."

* * *

"Asami, I have as many available units as I can muster out there looking for her."

"It's been  _hours_ , Lin."

"It's only midday."

The staccato of Asami's pacing heels pauses as she rounds on the Chief. "What kind of a pathetic excuse is that? This is the Avatar we're talking about here.  _Korra!_ "

"I am very much aware of that," Lin replies from behind her desk.

"Then why don't you have more people out there?" Asami demands. "Surely you have that kind of authority?  _Everyone_  should be looking -"

"We don't need that kind of panic. Thank you, but I do believe I know how to run this establishment."

"The papers will disagree."

"The papers," Lin sharply interjects, "will be far more interested in just why you and Varrick built that infernal machine!"

The rapping of knuckles on glass silences Asami's retort. Both women turn to the door, which after a few moments is tentatively pushed open.

"What is it, officer?" Lin barks as he sticks his head into the office.

"Chief, uh, you're needed down in Communications."

"I'll be there shortly," she replies, and waves dismissively at the man.

"Not to be rude, Chief, but I, um, think it would be best if you come right away."

Lin's eyes narrow at the officer. Not a minute later she is striding along the corridors of the Police Headquarters, Asami hot on her heels.

Lin throws open the door of the communications room, earning herself the startled looks of a number of operators busy at their desks. "Who asked for me?" the woman demands, Asami stepping into the room behind her.

"Over here, Chief!" one of the operators calls out, raising an arm to grab her attention. Lin and Asami quickly move over to her.

"What is it?"

"Have you found Korra?"

Lin flares her nostrils as Asami speaks over her, eyes intent on the female operator as she looks between them both, clearly hesitant towards whom she ought to direct her answer. "Spit it out, would you?" the Chief says impatiently.

"They've found her," the woman blurts out, "the Avatar."

Relief washes over Asami's face. "Oh, thank goodness. Thank goodness."

Lin's expression remains guarded. "And her condition?"

The operator swallows. "They're on their way to the hospital now, Chief."

Asami's face begins to fall. Lin nods resolutely.

"Then so am I."

"We. I'm coming too."

"Do you believe that's wise?"

Asami grows red with affront. "What a ridiculous question."

"Did they recover anything besides the Avatar?" Lin directs at the operator.

"No, Chief."

"I think you've more pressing matters to consider," Lin says, folding her arms. "I will deal with Korra."

Asami glares at the older woman. "I'm coming."

Lin shrugs. "Have it your way."

* * *

"Do you know where you were being held?"

"No. It was dark."

"There was nothing you recognised, general features of the room or -?"

"I said it was dark."

"How many Equalists were there?"

"I don't know exactly."

"I need you to cooperate with me here if I'm going to find these people."

"Three. Four. Six. I don't know."

Lin slowly exhales.

"Did you recognise any of the Equalists? Voices or mannerisms, perhaps?"

"No."

"How did they know how to operate the machine?"

"They had gotten hold of the manual somehow."

"What did the Equalists do after...after they took your bending?"

"I was unconscious. I wouldn't know."

"You were found dumped in an alley. The Equalists left no traces."

Standing outside the door of her room, Asami does not hear Korra reply.

"Did they announce any further intentions for the machine?"

"If they did, I wasn't listening."

"Anything at all, Korra. It could be useful."

"...One said they were making an example, of me."

"We're going to find them," Lin promises. "We're going to find them and put this all right again."

Korra has nothing to say to that.

"There's someone here to see you," Lin says after a brief pause.

Asami takes her cue, drawing in a deep, somewhat shaky breath as she turns the handle and pushes open the door.

Korra is sitting on top of the sheets of the hospital bed, a knee drawn up towards her chest. Her boots are on the floor beside her. An elbow pressed into the meat of her thigh, Korra rests her brow against the heel of her palm as she stares down into her lap. The doctor tells both Asami and Lin that she has suffered a few scrapes and bruises, and one other thing. It's that last detail that causes Asami's hands to fly up and cover her mouth as her jaw drops and her eyes widen in shock.

"Oh, Korra, your  _hair_..."

She slowly looks up at the sound of Asami's voice. Her mouth is a tight line and her normally bright blue eyes dark and narrow.

"Why is she here?"

Lin holds up her hands and takes a step away from Korra's bedside. Asami moves tentatively towards it as the Chief tucks a pen and notepad into the inner folds of her overcoat. "I came to see you, Korra," she says quietly, eyes shining.

"You're the last person I want to see right now."

"I'm sorry," she pleads, hands clutched together, "I'm so sorry! I swear, I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Korra turns her face aside, glaring at the far wall. "Go away. Just...go away."

Heartbroken, Asami can't help but reach out to her -

Lin catches her wrist. "We should leave the Avatar to rest," the woman suggests.

She doesn't want to go, but the Chief gives her no other alternative. Asami finds herself steered towards the door, casting one last desperate look over her shoulder. Korra's eyes are hard, cold stones, and then her eyelids fall to hide them.

They remain closed for a while after the door clicks shut. Korra hides in the darkness behind her eyes and tries to focus on taking deep, steadying breaths. Each one, however, grows more ragged, the rise and fall of her chest accompanied by a soft hitch in her throat. She presses her eyes shut and tries to push away the all too recent past. She fails and her lip trembles. Korra draws both knees up to her chest, covers her face with her hands, curves her fingers and presses uneven nails into her brow, grits her teeth as broad shoulders start to shake - and then the door swings open.

"Go away!" Korra yells, heedless of her visitor's identity.

"I had to negotiate with my armed escort for over fifteen minutes to secure this opportunity," a familiar voice speaks, and Korra's eyes snap open. "Even then, I am to be closely watched while in your presence."

Korra lowers her hands and looks up in disbelief at the woman standing beside her bed. "Kuvira? What are you doing here?"

"Scheduled health check-up," she replies, "standard affair for newly released prisoners, so I am told. May I sit?"

Korra blinks. "I...okay."

Kuvira turns and perches herself on the edge of the bed, crossing one leg over the other. "I heard what happened," the woman says simply.

"And you came to pity me," Korra replies, turning her gaze away. "I get it."

"Do you want my pity?"

"I don't," Korra says, more forcefully than intended.

Kuvira merely nods. Korra sees it in the corner of her eyes. She turns back to look at her.

"Why did you come?"

"To offer you an ear, if you have need of one."

Korra regards her for a long moment. "I'm surprised you haven't made a comment about my hair, like everyone else."

"Should I?"

"I've seen my reflection. I look...I look like a crook, like some kind of outcast."

Kuvira lifts her brow. "To whom?"

"To everyone!" Korra cries. "No one is looking at me the same way anymore. I'm  _different_  now."

She only has to glance at the police officer standing by the door to know it's true. He has an uneasy air about him, eyes shifting to and from Korra every other moment.

"You look different; that much is certain," Kuvira says. "However, the only perception of you that matters is your own. Define yourself, and the world must accept that truth."

"That sounds like rubbish," Korra says stiffly.

"As a woman who once carried the title 'Great Uniter', I speak from experience."

"The people are the ones who called you that," Korra argues.

"Yes," Kuvira allows, "they did. Now ask yourself why."

Korra closes her eyes. She understands, but she doesn't have the strength to do what Kuvira did, to make people listen, to  _make_  them respect her all over again. To do it once took so many years and in mere moments she watches all she has built crumble away. She's lost so much more than just her bending. It's the truth; she sees it in everyone's eyes. Except Kuvira's.

"Tell me," Korra says earnestly, turning at the woman, "what do you see when you look at me?"

Kuvira doesn't answer right away. Instead, she lifts her hand.

Korra stiffens, breath caught in her throat as the woman's fingers slowly brush through the stubby hair left on her head. Her shoulder length locks are gone, falling thickly away as she is given a swift buzz cut. She cries out in desperate protest when the Equalist grabs the first fistful of hair, but a blade held threateningly at her throat by another keeps her head still. She is ashamed, with a clenched jaw only just holding back hot tears. She holds them back now, fearing Kuvira's words will make them spill because, she thinks - she  _knows_ ; she's different now.

"What do I see?" the woman says, hand falling to rest on her shoulder. "I see Korra."

"You're a smooth talker," she says eventually.

"Years of practice," Kuvira replies, and for once there is a small, almost invisible curve to her mouth. "But this time, I'm telling the truth."

Korra sighs heavily, staring down at her hands folded into her lap. "I appreciate that."

The voice of the police officer interrupts their shared silence. "Time's up, Kuvira."

The woman nods and rises wordlessly to her feet. The contact of her hand at Korra's shoulder lingers for a moment longer before it slips away, and only when Kuvira is halfway out the room does Korra lift her head to watch her leave.


	7. Chapter 7

Everything seems to fail with the loss of her bending. Her strength, her voice, her sense of time and direction - they all short out like a tired fuse.

With minor physical injuries, Korra is swiftly discharged from hospital and immediately her presence is requested by both the Chief of Police and the President. Lin thinks that given a night's rest her memory might serve her a little better; it doesn't. Korra says even less this time in the face of the woman's relentless questioning.

Next is a visit to City Hall on Raiko's insistence. Every word that comes out of his mouth she can predict with almost complete accuracy. Promises to find the Equalists, to bring them to justice, and a reassurance that the machine will be recovered and her bending with it. That's all well and good, but Raiko doesn't personally have a hand in making any of those things actually happen. And of course his portion of blame in the whole disaster is masterfully shifted around to fall anywhere but on him.

Shirking the cameras waiting outside City Hall, Korra leaves the place feeling despondent. But she has been in this dreadful place before, and vows to never again consider her life worthless enough to be forfeited. Still, it is a difficult choice to make, to square her shoulders and not sink waist deep into the pit of misery. It's been a few years since the day which found her perched atop the cliffs, peering down into the icy sea. Korra promises herself she's going to try.

Air Temple Island and its host greet her earnestly. The children embrace Korra long and hard and their parents offer her a warm welcome. And their sympathies. What has happened to her is no secret here, nor anywhere if Republic City's media has had anything to do with it, Korra imagines. Varrick's handful of sufficiently encouraged reporters were, for him, for them all, in the wrong place at the right time. This is the scoop of the decade and nothing could persuade them otherwise.

Tenzin is first to offer Korra his condolences. She sits tiredly in front of him, nodding and humming merely for the sake of it than in actual agreement. She accepts his offer to meditate with her, more for peace of mind than anything else. It's tricky for Korra to get anywhere close to that state however when the man's words are echoing inside her head.

Every action and consequence, great and small, does not take place without reason. Without reason? What could she possibly have done to deserve  _this_?

Naga doesn't seem to have an answer to her questions, the old girl watching Korra with one beady black eye closed while she rests her head on her paws. And she is getting old, in polar bear dog years at least. Moves about less and very much likes her rest. Korra scratches her behind the ears as Naga closes her other eye and frowns, just a little. It's inevitable, isn't it? Naga has enjoyed a long and healthy life. Korra has just never been able to imagine her not by her side.

Jinora and Ikki bake her a cake to cheer her up - well, mostly Jinora, according to the girl. Ikki can't keep her mouth shut long enough to help out for more than a minute at a time. Jinora's words.

Korra is grateful right up until the moment she bites into her first slice. Then, while smiling politely, she considers that perhaps the girls should leave the cooking to their mother - who happens to specially prepare Korra a homely meal with all the flavour and smells of her own mother's kitchen. Korra can hardly believe her eyes when Pema sits her down before the assortment of plates and bowls. She would devour the spread with gusto, but for the fact that her silent dejection has robbed Korra of her appetite.

Meelo, with his handsome little brother in tow, catches her alone and proceeds to march Korra around the island while putting her through a set of improvised drills. He reasons that if his uncle could be a badass even when he was a nonbender then there's no reason she can't be. His words.

Korra decides to humour him. The physical workout does help keep her mind focused for a little while. She even manages, to her own great surprise, to make it through the airbending gates. Meelo tells her she moves just like an airbender. Her shaved head makes her look just like one, too! Rohan is more sensitive than his older brother. He simply offers Korra a hug when the upturned curve of her mouth fades away and she lifts the hood of her jacket again.

All of this does not take place within a single day, but over the course of several. Korra spends her mornings, afternoons and sometimes evenings on Air Temple Island, but without fail she spends the nights sleeping on Lin's couch.

The Chief is aware of the arrangement - in fact, it turns out to be convenient for Lin, who for the last few days has had to make her bed in her office. Demanding that security be increased around the Avatar, it makes things much easier that Korra occupies a building that is already under heavy, careful scrutiny. Lin doesn't have to redistribute already thinly stretched resources to ensure her protection. Not to mention it helps to have a trustworthy set of eyes on Kuvira. The woman has been held under house arrest indefinitely since the incident, her platinumbending sessions seemingly put on hold. She isn't optimistic about being granted the opportunity to teach again.

"I'm sure this is just temporary," Korra says early on, "Lin can't spare the metalbenders at the moment."

"I doubt that. I was given my chance and nothing came of it. Nothing good."

"Don't start blaming yourself for what happened to me. It wasn't your fault."

"Others will likely perceive that I am part of the chain reaction that led up to it," Kuvira replies.

"Well I don't," Korra tells her firmly.

Kuvira says little about the matter afterwards but she does talk about other things, mostly to fill the silences Korra leaves behind. She tells her of the life she lived before being heralded as the Great Uniter, and the one lived thereafter. Kuvira describes her fondness for dance and the company of her troupe, and then of her appreciation for strategy and the complexity of politics. She has no love for the latter; there are many difficult, necessary lessons to learn. Instead, Kuvira appreciates most the spirit of the moment, the thrill of conquest and the heat of battle. Korra understands those things, but then she is the only one who can look at Kuvira and see a human being, not a monster. And similarly, to the woman she is no enigma.

Kuvira understands  _her_.

"Further reports are coming in of more civilian kidnappings. The Equalists are running rampant through our city and leaving men and women discarded in the streets, their bending stripped away. Chief of Police Lin Beifong will be coming forward in the morning to issue a statement of reassurance. However, with the numbers constantly on the rise - and even our esteemed Avatar among them - one can only wonder how, if at all reassured, the public will be."

Sitting on a stool, Korra reaches out and switches off the radio before it can issue another word. She shades her eyes with a hand afterwards, her elbow resting on the kitchen counter. The Equalists are the reason Lin hasn't been sleeping in her own apartment lately, swiping people off the streets left and right in their dozens. It's the Revolution all over again, otherwise innocent benders brought before a masked fraud to be purged. Except this time Korra is first in line, and everyone seems to have made it their business to ensure she never forgets it.

"What's wrong?" Kuvira asks, standing opposite her attending to their dinner.

"All those people are suffering and they have no one to look to for help," Korra moans, the words briefly stuck in her throat. "That should be me. I should be doing  _something_."

"Do you know where to find the Equalists?" Kuvira asks, her back to Korra as she stirs the contents of a small pot.

"I...no."

"Even if you did, do you have the resources necessary to bring them to heel? Manpower? Equipment?"

"I've never led a personal army, Kuvira."

"That doesn't answer my question," the woman simply replies.

Korra throws up her hands in sheer frustration. "I don't, okay? But that isn't the point!"

"Which is what?"

"That I'm the Avatar," she says in earnest, though the conviction in her voice swiftly fades away, "and I feel so...so powerless."

Kuvira sharply tapping her cooking utensil against the rim of the pot fills the quiet in the wake of Korra's words. She retrieves its lid from the side and reaches down to adjust one of the gas cooker's knobs once the pot is covered. Afterwards, she turns to Korra.

"Come with me."

Her eyes are questioning, but Kuvira says nothing more and steps out of the kitchen. All but curious, Korra slips off her stool to follow her. The woman turns after leading her into the apartment's guest room, facing Korra as she places herself at the edge of the bed. "Sit," Kuvira instructs, indicating the space between her knees. Korra is more than a little confused by this point, and her brow arches as Kuvira gestures to the floor.

"Why, exactly?"

"I'd like to help you relax," Kuvira answers simply.

Korra hesitates for a long moment, pulling the flesh of her lip between her teeth. The plain expression Kuvira wears does not falter to offer any sort of encouragement, but her palms are upturned and open. "Alright," Korra eventually relents.

Her nervousness is evident in the way she brings herself to sit between Kuvira's legs, wrapping her arms around her knees and pulling them in towards her chest. She stiffens slightly when the woman's hands settle on her shoulders. "I'm not going to hurt you," Kuvira tells her, fingers sliding across the fabric of her top. Korra pushes out a breath and tries to let the almost instinctive tension dissipate from her body. It's just that this sort of touch is intimately familiar to her, and right now she would rather not dwell on those thoughts.

Kuvira begins applying pressure, pushing firm fingertips into her muscles. The woman doesn't say a word but Korra nevertheless finds herself closing her eyes, dropping her arms to the sides of her body. Her head hangs forward as Kuvira's hands move up to work at the back of her neck, Korra slowly swaying forward with the rhythm of her ministrations. Her knees serve as an impromptu buffer for her brow and Korra can almost feel herself becoming lighter as Kuvira's fingers climb up from between her shoulder blades to her nape.

"You're good at this," she murmurs softly, breaking the peaceable quiet that settles over them.

"I've had many opportunities to practice."

"On who?"

"My fiancé," Kuvira replies. "Or perhaps I should say, ex-fiancé."

"I'm sorry..."

"You shouldn't be. It is a fate I earned."

Korra cracks open an eye. "But don't you...don't you still have feelings for him?"

There is no response.

"Kuvira?"

"I choose not to long after the things I have lost. I have no right to, when I was the one to throw it away."

"He was devoted to you. Maybe -"

"I have received no word from him, from anyone, since my incarceration began."

"Suyin probably -"

"I don't want to talk about her." Kuvira's hands pause, and then their contact fades away. "You were the only one to visit me, Korra. You, and the guards."

There's something in her voice that makes Korra lift her head, like a thorn stubbornly hooked into tender flesh. "Kuvira?" she says again, turning to look over her shoulder.

"Lie on the bed," she instructs her tonelessly, "I can work better that way."

Korra recognises dismissal when she hears it. Whatever it is, like the mother of her once fiancé, Kuvira won't discuss it.

"No, facing up," the woman tells her when Korra moves to lie down on her front, propping her chin up on the back of her hands. The mattress depresses further as Kuvira climbs onto the bed, placing herself on her knees at Korra's side. "Give me your hands," she says, which are now folded neatly atop Korra's stomach after shuffling into a comfortable position, resting her head amongst the pillows. She does so, without thinking, and Kuvira takes hold of them.

Lifting her arms, Korra feels the cool kiss of the bed's headrest against her wrists, silver bars laced together into an elegant, curving pattern. It is only when she looks up and meets the woman's gaze that something unsettling creeps along her skin. Kuvira's eyes are as cold as the day Korra walks into her cell to find her broken free of her chains and sitting quietly in wait. And that's when she hears the wrenching screech of metal.

"Hey," Korra says with an uncertain smile, "um, Kuvira?"

She doesn't answer as she lifts and swings a knee over her body, afterwards positioning herself above Korra's hips.

"Hey," she says again, "what are you doing?"

"You said you felt powerless," Kuvira tells her, and pulls a sharp gasp from Korra's lips as she drops her weight down onto her, "but believe me, you don't know what it really means to be."

"What? What are you talking about?"

Kuvira says nothing. There's a fierce intensity in her gaze as it slowly falls to Korra's chest. She starts to breathe faster underneath the woman's piercing scrutiny. Korra tugs at her arms and winces aloud, the mangled bars of the headrest coiled tightly around her wrists.

"Kuvira, please let me go." Only days before was she rendered helpless with her hands wrapped painfully around the back of a chair. "I'm not comfortable with this - whatever it is you're doing."

The woman regards her with a frosty gaze. "You'll learn to like it."

Korra blinks. Before she can even think to reply, however, Kuvira reaches down to take her top in the grip of both hands. And then with one violent motion, she tears it open.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revisions:
> 
> \- Two lines of dialogue removed from Ch3
> 
> \- Several minor adjustments to dialogue in Ch4
> 
> \- Adjustment to ending of Ch6
> 
> \- Korra/Kuvira segment of Ch7 rewritten
> 
> \- Reworked majority of Ch8
> 
> These changes are for the most part focused on addressing the portrayal of the Korra/Kuvira relationship. It was not intended to be perceived as romantic, per se, but that is the fault of the writing. This has been corrected and a re-read of at least Chapters 7 and 8 is encouraged.

Korra draws in a sharp, audible breath as her chest is suddenly exposed.

"Kuvira, stop," she demands in a shaky voice, "I don't know what you're doing, but you need to stop!"

The woman looks up at her. There's something on her face; the shadow of a smirk. " _Need_  to stop? Why would I do that?" Her hand closes tightly over the cup of Korra's bra. "It's just the two of us here, just you and me. And I'm the one in control."

Korra is trembling now; panic is beginning to swiftly set in.

"Kuvira, I want you to stop."

The woman doesn't listen. Korra grits her teeth as she gropes her chest. " _Kuvira_ ," she hisses, trying to turn her torso away, but with the weight sitting on her hips the effort only makes pain flare through her wrists. The woman callously ignores her, hooking in her fingers and tugging insistently. Korra feels a warm touch brush against bare, intimate flesh and a terrible chill sweeps through her. Eyes watering, she screams.

"I SAID STOP!"

Korra furiously bucks her hips and the last of Kuvira she sees before she goes tumbling to the floor is the surprise on her face. Korra twists on the bed and has her feet pointed in the direction Kuvira falls, breathing hard and ready to kick out. But the woman only picks herself slowly up off the ground, hair falling across her eyes. The smirk Korra thinks she saw is gone; now Kuvira wears nothing. Her face is entirely devoid of expression.

"Let me go," Korra says.

Kuvira carefully pushes the hair out of her eyes and regards her from behind an emotionless gaze. "Free yourself."

"What?!" Korra pulls at the metal binding her hands, rattling the headrest. "I can't bend. You know I can't bend!"

But the woman is already turning to leave the room, a hand reaching for the door handle. Korra watches her, staring in open-mouthed disbelief.

"Kuvira?"

The door quietly but firmly clicks shut.

"KUVIRA!"

* * *

Korra shouts the woman's name until the effort makes her voice hoarse - and that doesn't take long. The feeling of sandpaper scraping down her throat is all the reward she gets, for the door remains closed and Kuvira silent. So she tries to pull herself free instead.

Korra folds herself in half, pressing the soles of her feet to the wall above the mangled frame of the headrest. She pushes, with all her might - and then kicks at the thing when it refuses to give, gritting her teeth whilst forcefully tugging at her arms. Her head bounces up off the pillows as she flails bodily, teeth gritted as she writhes in a desperate attempt to free herself. Korra's eyes are watering with pain when her legs fall limply back down onto the bed. No matter how she twists and turns, she can't escape.

"Kuvira! Let me  _go_. Let me go, please!"

Korra can't get out, and she's scared. She's trapped in this room all by herself with no idea what's going to happen to her, and no idea what thoughts are running through Kuvira's mind. She tries to push away those racing through her own, the one's that are making her sweat as she tries not to panic. But all Korra has to do is glance down to see her top split open and chest exposed, or look up and see her hands tangled into twisted bars of metal to remember just what had been happening to her. And what is there to stop Kuvira from walking back into the room and...and...?

Tears are beginning to leak from Korra's eyes, but she tells herself they aren't. Think, think! She can do this, she can free herself. She has to. Or Kuvira just might come back. Kuvira just might decide she isn't finished with her yet. But minutes later, after Korra has tried everything the moment it comes to mind, she is still trapped.

She shouts, and kicks, and thrashes so hard against the metal frame that it cuts into her skin and scarlet rivulets trickle down her forearms. But it doesn't release her. The bars hold fast, hold her hostage. There's only one thing she has left, but Korra can't do that anymore and Kuvira knows it. She knows there's  _nothing_  Korra can do to stop her. She can't bend. She can't fight, not forever. She's helpless.

She's powerless.

Korra starts to cry. She can't stop herself. Her chest heaves with wet, loud sobs that can no longer be held back. They've been waiting to pour out, ever since she woke up in a hospital room and frantically reached for her bending. But it isn't there. It's been taken from her. She's lost her gift, her strength, and without it she's nothing. She's no one.

Korra's face is splashed across every newspaper in the city. She's the first target, the first victim, the first obstacle to be removed from the Equalists' path to resurgence. She's propaganda, never a person, never a woman who has had something precious stripped from her. No one looks at her the way they used to anymore. They all look at her like she's so much less than what she used to be. And why shouldn't they? Korra has seen herself in the mirror; with a roughly shaven head and her face drawn in quiet despair, she barely recognises herself. Korra can see it, and so can everyone else. She is the Avatar, or she's nothing at all. But if that is true, why is there always one voice that tells her otherwise?

Her thoughts turn back to Kuvira. Since that day in the hospital, she has been unfailingly insistent that Korra is worth much more than just her title. That despite what has happened to her, she  _is_ the same woman. In Kuvira's eyes she sees only respect, for  _Korra_. Not as the Avatar, but for who she is in spite of that, and it is a look she recognises from the time they sat amongst violet flowers, where she extended her hand to a woman weak, defeated and alone and lifted her up onto her feet. So Korra trusts her. She realises how foolish she has been.

Kuvira is and will always be a dangerous woman. She built herself a stage upon the bodies of dissenters for all the world to see. For three years, she manipulates, uses and abuses her way into power. And now Korra too lies at her mercy, humiliated and seething. But not for much longer.

She tilts back her head and through angry tears glares up at her bound hands. Her skin is slick with sweat and blood, but the bars twisted around them are still tight. The muscles in her jaw tense, she nevertheless hisses when she starts experimentally swivelling her wrists. Too early. She's not free yet, but she sure as hell will be. With renewed purpose, Korra narrows her eyes at the metal frame holding her captive.

* * *

The guest room door is thrown open so violently the hinges groan loudly in protest. Korra stalks across the threshold, fists clenched, lips curled and broad shoulders rolling - to find Kuvira waiting for her. Sitting on the arm of Lin's couch, the woman lifts her chin away from interlocked fingers and starts rising to her feet. It's her eyes that make Korra's single-minded stride falter, no longer empty, no longer cold, that and what Korra sees on the coffee table behind Kuvira's shoulder: a roll of bandages laid next to a plastic bowl of water. As if Kuvira cared all along.

"You did it," the woman says.

It takes Korra a moment to register that she has stopped moving, that she's standing still staring across the room at Kuvira and can't make herself move. "Did what?" she replies harshly.

"You freed yourself. You can do it."

"Do  _what?_ "

"Platinumbend."

Korra stares incredulously at the woman. "What the hell are you talking about? I can't bend  _a_ _nything_. Especially not  _platinum_."

"But you know how, now. You know what it takes."

Korra shakes her head, nonplussed. " _What?!_ "

"You know how," Kuvira says again. She lays a finger against her temple. "It's this that matters; only this."

"I didn't. Bend. A damn. Thing," Korra growls, biting off every word.

"Then you wouldn't be standing there. Then I would still be in my prison cell."

Korra is silent, squeezing her nails into the flesh of her palms. Kuvira is delusional. She wants nothing more than to walk over there and hurl her fist into the woman's face. But she can't. It's her eyes, those damn  _eyes_  that for once are open and unguarded and in them Korra sees so much, but now...now she is beginning to feel like she doesn't need to ask what it all means.

"You're bleeding," Kuvira tells her. "I have -"

"Stay away from me," Korra cuts in. Her voice is thick as she takes a step back. "I won't let you touch me again."

The woman drops her eyes and wordlessly lowers the hand gesturing to the coffee table. Korra pushes down on the urge to wince as she opens the cold tap after walking over to the kitchen. She runs her wrists and forearms under the flow of water, a ring of pink impressed into her skin. The bite of the metal bars is a constant pain, even as she gradually pulls herself free. Korra shakes off excess water into the sink. She pauses briefly before grabbing some paper towels, clutching them around her wrist as she steps out of the kitchen. Her eyes refuse to go to Kuvira, who stands silent and alone. The only thing she wants now is her jacket.

"You saved me, Korra," the woman speaks suddenly, and despite herself she stops in her tracks. "You stopped me from destroying myself, from destroying everything when I learned how to bend my prison cell. I wanted to tear it all down, but you promised me week after week that you would find a way to get me out of that place. So in the end I wanted you to come and find me; me, the woman you helped keep alive."

Korra turns to face her. "What you were doing in there," she says, glancing towards the guest room and swallowing, "were you really going to...?"

"Finish what I started?" Kuvira says when words fail her. "I have the capacity for cruelty, Korra - we all do." She closes her eyes, drawing in a long, slow breath. "But I am not a monster. I would not make you suffer the things I did."

"Then why did you start in the first place?!"

"I'm a harsh woman, Korra. Perhaps I am heartless, too. That's what it took to do the things I did," Kuvira replies quietly. "But you aren't cold, like me. You care about what is right and what is not. So you should take my place. You can teach what I couldn't, because now...now you understand."

Korra doesn't say another word after that. Her head and heart are in disarray. The thought of staying here a minute longer only makes her feel more anxious to get away. She grabs her jacket and pulls up the door behind her as she leaves the apartment. Korra is flagging down a taxicab shortly afterwards as she steps out into the night. The driver asks her where she wants to go. After so many months, it's strange how easily his address finds her lips.


	9. Chapter 9

They stare at each other from either side of the open door, he dressed in a faded vest and loose pants, her shivering beneath a jacket that's been dripping rainwater up the steps to his apartment.

"C-Can I come in?" Korra asks, teeth chattering.

Mako frowns. "You'd better," he says, "before you catch a cold."

Her step forward across the threshold takes Korra back three years into the past. The apartment has hardly changed. She could probably still pinpoint every last piece of worn, cheap furniture with her eyes closed. Mako was never one for form over function. If it isn't broken why cut a chunk out of his monthly wages replacing it? Arguably because it would make a much better impression on the girl he'd be bringing home, though when Korra said exactly that it hadn't mattered. But that was so long ago.

"Give me this," Mako says, coming up behind her after pushing the apartment door shut.

His voice and its proximity give Korra a small jump, one Mako doesn't seem to notice as he catches her jacket by the sodden collar. Her arms and back are left damp in its absence as Mako helps her shrug out of it, and then Korra is left to stand in the middle of the apartment, hugging herself for warmth. Mako returns in short order with a large towel, having hung up the jacket over the bath to drip dry.

"Here," he says quietly, and standing in front of her drapes the thick, grey towel around Korra's shoulders.

She looks down, at the familiar hands clutching makeshift lapels just above her chest, then up at the face dimly lit by a shaded lamp standing atop a small table beside an old couch; the apartment's sole light source. Mako's sharp, prominent eyebrows are knitted together in concern, his eyes unblinkingly focused on hers and Korra find herself moving forward just a tiny bit, so that his hands can come into contact with her body. And so hers can rise tentatively to his chest, feeling a plain of muscle beneath thin cotton. He is warm, so much warmer than the towel wrapped around her.

"Hold me," Korra hears herself murmur. He does, but not the way she expects.

Rather than strong, comforting arms folding around her body, drawing her into that space right now Korra sorely craves, Mako carefully slips his hands around her wrists. "I don't think I should," he tells her. "Not the way you want me to."

She is confused. "But, I need you."

Mako shakes his head. "What you need is a hot cup of cocoa. Have a seat," he says, indicating the couch, "I'll get you some."

* * *

"Asami's called here a few times, trying to find out where you are," Mako says as he hands her a steaming mug. "Apparently Lin won't say a word to her beyond 'witness protection'."

Korra brings the cocoa to her lips, looking over the rim of the mug. "Why would you know?"

"Because I work with, or at least under, Lin," Mako replies, taking a seat on the low, scuffed coffee table opposite her, "and she's been dedicating as much of the force as she can to finding and stopping the Equalists."

"Did you know?"

"I know the basic details of Kuvira's house arrest, but nothing about you, after what happened."

Korra nods. "I don't want to talk to Asami right now. I asked Lin not to tell her anything."

"Huh," Mako says, rubbing his jaw, "then I wonder what I did to deserve the same treatment."

He isn't quite glaring at her, as Korra lowers the mug from her lips, but his gaze is unavoidable. Amber eyes pull hers back to them, no matter how Korra tries looking away.

"You haven't spoken to me since Varrick's wedding," Mako says, filling the silence when she fails to. "You didn't even tell me you planned on disappearing into the Spirit World for a month."

"I – We didn't plan that. It...it was a spur of the moment sort of thing."

"But what about after you came back?" Mako asks. "Did I do something wrong, Korra?"

"No, of course not," she says earnestly. "It's just, a lot of things changed. Things were different. I..thought it'd be good to have some space, you know? I just didn't mean to leave it that long."

"Like how you ignored all my letters for three years?"

"I didn't ignore them," Korra mumbles. She has to look away then, her eyelids heavy as she blinks. "I read your letters almost every day. I missed you."

"From where I was standing, Korra, it didn't look that way," Mako replies quietly.

She closes her eyes, making an effort to steady her breath. "I'm sorry. I'm _sorry,_ okay? I...couldn't. I just couldn't, and I can't now. I can't...I can't feel the air around me. I can't feel the earth underneath my feet. I couldn't _feel_ the rain even though it was soaking me right through to the bone. And this cocoa, it's so hot it burns my tongue and I _still_ feel cold inside."

Mako frowns. "Oh. Sorry about that -"

Korra waves off his apology. "It's not your fault. It's..."

But who is to blame? Whose fault is it? Asami's? Kuvira's?

Her own?

"I don't know," Korra says, trailing off as she fails to answer her own question. Perhaps this is just Fate. Perhaps this is what she deserves.

"It's getting late," Mako says then. "Like I said, I don't know the details, but I probably don't qualify as witness protection."

Korra sniffs. "Lin wouldn't mind, if I stayed here overnight."

Mako looks at her for a long moment. "I don't know about that..."

"Please? I can't go back there, not tonight."

"Where is there?" Mako asks, brow curiously arched.

Korra considers her too-hot cocoa. "I probably shouldn't tell you, right?"

"No, probably not. If the Equalists turn up here in the middle of the night, it's best I don't know where I've bought time for you to run off to."

Korra stares at him. "I can't tell if you're joking."

"My jokes always went over your head," Mako replies, shaking his. "But I was being serious, for the record."

"So I can stay?" Korra says. "I don't mind sleeping on the couch. I was just starting to get used to Asami's after all."

Mako frowns again. "Why were you sleeping on her couch instead of...?" But then he catches himself, and his cheeks darken in the process. "Actually, nevermind. And no, I won't let you sleep on the couch."

"But -"

"Korra, you're the Avatar," Mako cuts in, rising to his feet, "and despite three and a half years of no contact, I still consider you one of my best friends. You can have my room tonight."

For the first time in days, Korra eventually manages a small smile.

* * *

She is roused by a familiar smell, the sharp scent of coffee. Much really hasn't changed after all these years; Mako still prefers his brew strong. Korra wonders if he evens bothers to add milk these days.

She finds herself curled up near the foot of his bed, not so much a surprise to Korra. As she slips under the covers and lays a head to his pillow, her skin prickles uncomfortably. Even when she tucks her hands protectively into her chest. Because the headrest looms over her, a phantom whose shadow seems to slowly sway in the dark each time Korra glances up at the wall above her. It's in no way as intricate in design, just simple, evenly spaced bars of metal, but that is more than enough to unnerve Korra.

More than enough to remind her what had occurred only hours before.

Her sleep was intermittent, restless, plagued with tossing, turning and long stretches of staring off into the dark corners of the room. Every moment of her head against the pillow she takes with her to the foot of the bed is accompanied by the bristly sound of roughly shaven hair. She can't help but run a hand over it, slowly, mournfully. Now, as she rises, sitting up on the bed, Korra rubs at her wrists.

Morning light streaming in through cracks in the blinds makes the pink rings around them much more visible. Mako somehow hadn't noticed them the night before. Korra plans to keep it that way. She steps into the adjacent bathroom, hoping to wash away bad memories. The warm spray of the shower however, pelting down on hunched shoulders, only serves to remind Korra of the things she has lost. Once upon a time she could have returned her skin to its natural tone, gently healing her wounds in moments. Now, she would be stuck with the scars. Perhaps for the rest of her life.

Korra hears Mako's telephone ring through the bedroom door, pushed shut while she dries herself off. She thinks nothing of it as she drops the towel and reaches for her clothes. When Korra hears him answer it however, she forgets her panties are halfway pulled up and almost falls flat on her face rushing to the door.

"Korra? Yeah, funnily enough..."

Mako pauses as a flustered looking face appears in a crack in the bedroom door. Korra shakes her head emphatically as their eyes meet, because she hears the mention of one particular name she certainly, absolutely, does not want to talk to when Mako greets the caller. He doesn't seem to get the message, apparently.

"She's here," Mako says, finishing his sentence. "...No, I'm not. Yes, Asami, I realise this isn't something to joke about...I _am_ being serious! Look, do you want me to get her or not? Alright then. Korra!"

He doesn't really need to raise his voice, the apartment is a small one and very little distance separates Mako's bedroom from the main living space. It's mainly to let Korra know the gig is up when her face disappears from the crack in the door and she begins throwing on her clothes in a desperate bid to get out of the apartment before Mako can turn over the conversation. All decidedly in vain as she hops on the spot, trying to shove her right foot into the wrong boot.

"Korra," Mako calls again, and the springs of his bed whine as she drops down onto it in defeat, "Asami's on the phone. She wants to speak to you."

She glares at him upon sullenly emerging from the bedroom. "What are you doing?" Korra hisses.

Mako holds out the receiver. "Making sure you don't leave it too long."

She looks at him, things unspoken crossing his eyes, and then hers turn to the telephone. She takes first a deep breath, and then afterwards the receiver.

"Asami."

" _Korra? Korra! Oh, you don't how glad I am to hear your voice. Where have you been? When I went back to the hospital they told me you were discharged, so I went to speak to Lin but getting anything out of her was like drawing blood from a stone. Tenzin didn't seem to know anything when I spoke to him last and Mako – bless him, he must be so fed up of me by now – he's the only one actually helping me try and find you._ " Breathless, Asami suddenly falls silent. " _...Um, Korra?_ "

Her grip is tight around the receiver. "I'm still here."

" _Korra, I'm...I'm so sorry. I know it won't mean much to you, me saying it like this. That's why I want to see you. I need to talk to you, properly._ "

She swallows, a lump sliding down her throat, and doesn't say anything.

" _Please, Korra,_ " Asami begs her. " _We can meet wherever you want._ "

She can't help but glance towards Mako, who stands nearby with his arms folded and an expression worn that almost suggest he can hear the conversation first-hand. Korra sighs heavily, rubbing at her eyes. And tugging down the sleeve of her jacket, freshly dried, when the cuff begins to slip.

"Okay."

" _Great!_ " Asami replies, with all the enthusiasm of a woman who'd just confirmed a dinner date. Evidently she realises the tone might be a little too exuberant, clearing her throat and continuing more soberly. " _I mean, thank you, Korra, really. After...after everything, this means so much to me._ "

"Right."

" _So, um, where would you like to meet?_ "

Korra thinks about it for a moment. "The park."

" _Isn't that a bit too open?_ " Asami replies. " _I thought you were in witness protection. That's all Lin would tell me._ "

"I'll run it past her, should be fine."

" _...Okay. Okay. How about in an hour, can you do that?_ "

"Sure."

" _Okay,_ " Asami says again, and then takes a deep breath herself. " _I've really missed you. I hope...I hope we can -_ "

"I'll see you there," Korra cuts in, and she can feel her hand starting to shake. "Bye."

She gives the receiver back to Mako, shoving her hands into her pockets as he takes it with a questioning look on his face. "We're meeting in Republic City Park," she tells him.

Mako nods, placing the telephone back down on the table beside the couch. "I hope it goes well. Really, I do."

"Thanks," Korra mutters, turning towards the apartment door. She pauses, then looks back. "For everything, you know?"

"I know," Mako says, "but let another three years go by and I'll be hard pressed to forgive you."

"I won't, I promise."

Mako smiles, then steps forward to embrace her. It makes her feel secure, warm on the inside where the flame of her bending used to burn. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to mind when Korra extracts her hands from her pockets and wraps her arms around him.

"Hey," she says quietly, resting against Mako's chest, "I just realised you haven't said anything about my hair."

"What's to say?" he replies. "Doesn't change who you are. Whether it's long, short, or not there at all, you're still Korra. Right?"

She closes her eyes, listening to his heartbeat. "...Right."


	10. Chapter 10

"As many men and women as can be spared without sacrificing our other responsibilities are being devoted to this situation, I can assure you."

Lin, standing atop the steps in front of Police Headquarters, speaks curtly in response to the reporter's query. Having just finished given her public statement of reassurance, the Chief reluctantly opens the floor for additional questions. She would much rather just send them all scurrying back to their office desks to twist her words this way and that and get back to business. Republic City's gears keep on turning irrespective of anyone's wishes otherwise.

A hand shoots into the air, voice barking in tandem. "Why are the Police having so much difficulty tracking down the Equalists when you've dealt with them in the past?"

"This Equalists group appears to have learned from past lessons where we apprehended their cohorts," Lin replies. "They are mobile this time around."

"Are we to believe that the Police had zero knowledge of their existence prior to the attack?" another voice calls out.

"Of this particular group and their plans, no, we did not."

"Despite the fact that they were targeting Avatar Korra?"

Lin clenches her jaw, though the action is so familiar it practically serves as her permanent expression. "Korra's safety and well-being is our primary concern. We are doing all that can be done in light of this unfortunate circumstance to ensure that remains the case."

"Despite the removal of her bending? Might I remind you Chief Beifong that this is the second time -"

"That changes nothing about the duty of care we owe the Avatar," she cuts in, glaring daggers at the reporter in question. "We will apprehend the Equalists, retrieve both the stolen device and the bending it was used to remove, then work to the best of our ability along with the relevant individuals to restore it to the original owner."

"Are you referring to Varrick and Asami Sato, co-creators of the debending machine?"

"I am."

"How will the Police be treating their role in this situation going forward?"

"We will be focusing on the recovery of the machine and the apprehension of the Equalists," Lin replies. "As to the responsibility Varrick and Asami owe those who have fallen victim to it, I suggest directing your questions at President Raiko."

The group of reporters are immediately shouting over each other, trying to demand the Chief's attention in light of her apparent and no doubt juicy accusation of the President. However, it's at that moment that Lin finds herself distracted by a voice in her ear. The woman's eyes narrow by a small fraction as she listens.

"Chief, you're needed down in Communcations. It's urgent."

"What is it?" she mutters back, shielding her mouth with a hand.

"We think we have a lead."

* * *

Hood raised as she walks through the park, Korra stuffs her hands deep into her pockets and points her eyes down at the path, hoping nobody spares her a second glance. Fortunately, there aren't many other people in sight this early in the day, otherwise she likely would have stuck out like a sore thumb. Whether it's her feelings or her identity, Korra has never been all too adept at hiding things.

As she crosses a bridge that arches over the park's abundant pond, a familiar landmark comes into view. One Korra has never been particularly fond of. Having a statue erected in her honour is no doubt a momentous occasion, but she can't help but feel a little weird about it. For starters, as far as she's aware, wasn't that sort of thing was supposed to happen after the honoured individual had passed on? She's very much still alive and kicking. Not to mention the sculptor had recreated her likeness extremely well without actually having Korra herself there to refer to.

All sorts of questions she simply prefers not to think about.

It's by this statue of herself that Korra spots Asami, sitting at its boots with something lying across her lap. It's difficult to tell exactly what it is from this distance, but there's no mistaking those long, glossy black locks swept back over the shoulders of a stylish grey overcoat. And then as if sensing her presence as she scans the park, Asami's eyes suddenly turn and immediately find Korra. Or perhaps it's due to the dark, hooded, hunched shoulders look amidst the quiet, colourful scenery of the park sticking out like a sore thumb.

Korra's steps are full of uncertainty as Asami quickly rises to her feet. Before her eyes is the vivid image of the last time they were in each other's presence. The cold and sterile hospital room in which Asami's words of apology ring hollow in Korra's ear, and in which she is enveloped in such feelings of misery all Korra can do is fold into herself and breathe shallow lest she shatter into pieces right there and then. That these are the thoughts to come to mind the moment she sees Asami are less than the encouragement she needs to keep moving towards her.

" _...don't leave it too long..."_

Mako's voice, like a stubborn hand between the shoulder blades, pushes her forward.

* * *

"I bought you flowers."

Asami's tentatively holds them out, the collection of white tulips beautifully arranged and wrapped in patterned cellophane. Korra seems hesitant to take them.

"I...uh, thanks," she says eventually, extracting her hands from her pockets and shaking down the cuffs of her jacket before reaching forward.

"I didn't know what you liked," Asami says. "I've never bought flowers for a woman before. A woman like you, I mean. Because we're...or were..."

She trails off, fidgeting despite her interlocked fingers. Asami has presented wild ideas to more than sceptical investors and yet has never been more nervous than she is in this moment.

"Are we okay?" Asami blurts out suddenly.

Under the shadow of her hood Korra looks like she'd fit right in at that investors' table. "Because you bought me flowers?"

"I'm sorry, that was a silly thing to ask," Asami says quickly. "It's just, I haven't been able to stop thinking about this whole thing. About us."

Korra looks down at the bouquet in her hand. "I think I deserve an explanation, Asami."

"You're right," she says, nodding. "I just...I don't know where to start."

"From the beginning would be nice, like why in the world you thought it'd be a great idea to build a machine that can strip people of their bending behind my back."

Asami can't stop herself. "Oh, like how you were visiting Kuvira behind mine?"

Korra scowls. "You might've learned to cook like her, but you're not my mother."

"And I don't even have one to compare _you_ to," Asami says fiercely, "because she was taken from me by benders. And then my father, whom after three long, painful years I had finally started to forgive, he was taken from me. By a bender. By _Kuvira._ So tell me why you think I really agreed to build that machine for Varrick."

She turns away, looking across the park as the truth hangs in the silent air between them. Korra finally speaks.

"You should have talked to me," she says quietly.

Asami gives an empty laugh. "So you could lecture me about the rights and wrongs of what I was doing?"

"I wouldn't have done that."

"The Avatar refusing to judge others from her moral high ground?" Asami scoffs. "That's practically your job, Korra."

She frowns. "I'm human, Asami, just like you. I've been hurt too. I've been in dark places."

"You can't possibly understand how I feel."

"Zaheer took my legs," Korra says bluntly, "and broke my spirit along with them. You saw me. The whole world saw me. The only thing I saw, whether I was awake or dreaming, was him. And when it was just me, when I was alone in my room in the middle of the night with nothing but agony for company, how do you think I felt?"

Asami sniffs. "That's different."

"A different set of circumstances, but it's all the same in the end. Eventually, when you're stuck deep in that dark place, you have to make choices. If I'd made them by myself, I don't know where I would be today," Korra tells her. "Maybe...maybe I wouldn't."

"Don't say that."

Korra shrugs. "It's the truth. Luckily, I had my parents, Katara and the letters you all were sending to steer me away from those thoughts, at least. And you, Asami? You had me."

She blinks, then turns to face her. "Had?" Asami says, the faintest quiver to her voice.

Whatever answer Korra is about to give is stolen right off the tip of her tongue when a man abruptly steps out from behind her statue into view. Asami spins around after noticing her sudden change in expression, instinctively shifting to a defensive posture in a heartbeat.

"Who are you?" she sharply challenges the man. "Have you been eavesdropping on us?"

"Yes."

"What?!"

The man pales. "I mean, not intentionally!"

But Asami is already rolling up her sleeves, preparing to march around Korra's statue and give him a piece of her mind. A grip on her wrist prevents her doing so.

"Hold on," Korra says, "I know him."

"You do?"

Says the man. Which only prompts Asami to eye him threateningly.

"You're one of the officers Lin has keeping watch on the building," Korra reveals. "What are you doing here?"

"I've been following you since you left last night. Those were my instructions!" the man clarifies when Asami looks set to bodily pounce on him. Korra holds her back.

"Wait, you followed me to Mako's apartment?" she says then.

"Yes, ma'am. I slept in the car overnight."

Korra rolls her eyes. "Why does everyone insist on calling me that?"

Asami looks between them. "You stayed with Mako last night?"

"Long story," Korra replies without thinking, "the short of it being I didn't want to go back to Lin's apartment."

"Go back? So that's where you've been all this time?"

Korra blinks, then sighs after realising her mistake.

"Goodness," Asami fumes, "why couldn't the woman have just said so? Her apartment? I thought you were holed up in a safehouse somewhere!"

"Considering how many officers are set up there, it might as well be one," Korra tells her.

"Then why did you leave?"

Korra looks away, adjusting her cuffs. "Like I said, long story. Anyway, what did you want?"

The man, who was looking intently between them as they spoke, straightens with a small jump as she addresses him. "Oh, message from Headquarters. The Chief needs you there right away."

Asami glances at Korra. "What's the urgency?"

"They've found the Equalists."

* * *

Lin looks up as the Avatar bursts into her office with nary a knock on the door, Asami in tow.

"Nice flowers," the woman says, glancing down at Korra's hand, "I suppose that means you two have made up?"

"Forget the flowers," Korra says impatiently, pushing them aside as she stands in front of Lin's desk. "Tell me about the Equalists."

"Straight to the point. Alright then," Lin complies with a small nod, "we believe we've sniffed them out. Based on the information we've received preparations are already well under way to conduct a raid. They've slipped out from under my fingers for the last time."

"Already? When did you find out their location?"

"Roughly an hour ago," Lin says. Korra practically balloons right in front of her.

"An _hour?_ Why am I only hearing about this now?"

"Well if you had stayed put in my apartment instead of running off to Detective Mako's – leaving Kuvira by herself might I add - I would have been able to inform you much sooner," Lin tells her.

"Hold on," Asami cuts in, "you were in witness protection with _Kuvira?"_

Korra waves her down. "I'm in," she says to Lin. "Give me the details."

The Chief blinks. "Pardon?"

"I said I'm in."

"On what, exactly?"

"On the damn raid, what else?"

Lin immediately shakes her head. "Not happening, Korra."

She stares at the woman, taken aback. "What? Why?"

"The answer to that should be obvious."

Korra searches for it to no avail. "What, because I wasn't here an hour ago? Just give me the gist of it and I'm good to go. No?"

"I think she's referring to your bending," Asami quietly supplies when the Chief merely shakes her head again.

Korra looks over her shoulder, then back at Lin. "Is that it? You think just because I can't bend that means I can't fight? I'd wipe the floor with any one of your officers without it!"

"No, my officers would bend the floor from right underneath your feet as soon as you took your first step," Lin replies.

Korra seethes. "Bring every last one of them in front of me, right now. I've spent almost my whole life fighting; I'll prove you wrong, you'll see."

"Enough," the Chief says sharply, rising to her feet, "you are not aware of the proceedings and have never once trained with my metalbenders -"

"This isn't my first raid," Korra cuts in. "What do you think I was doing on Tarlokk's task force?"

"Enough!" Lin barks. "You will not be taking part, Korra, and that is final."

"I'm the _Avatar_ ," she says after a long moment.

"Certainly," Lin acknowledges, "which is why your safety and security are my primary concern, and why you'll be staying here in the meantime while we conduct the raid."

"You're going?"

"Of course I am," the Chief replies, moving around from behind her desk. "I have recruited my finest metalbenders to get this job done," she says, laying a hand to Korra's shoulder. "Don't worry, I will personally give the Equalists your regards."

* * *

"Korra...Korra!"

" _What?"_

"Please stop pacing," Asami says, "I can feel you stomping the floor from over here."

She pauses in the middle of the Police Headquarter's lobby, the only place in the whole building Korra is prepared to wait. She wants to be right there the moment Lin and her task force return.

"I need to be moving," she tells Asami, "I need to be doing something or all this waiting is going to drive me insane. Do you know how close I came to punching an old woman in the face today?"

"I doubt that would have gone well."

Korra pauses again. "You don't think I could've taken _Lin?_ "

"After which, I presume, you would successfully fight your way out of an entire building full of benders?"

"Damn straight."

Asami simply shakes her head. "Korra, _I_ would stand a better chance of actually taking on Lin than you right now."

That certainly gives her pause. "What?"

"I've only been trained in several martial arts since the age of six with the express purpose of defending myself against benders, remember?"

Korra slowly deflates, the scepticism in her face draining away. "Oh, right."

"Right," Asami echoes, hands folded neatly into her lap. The bouquet of tulips sit on the chair next to her.

"How are you doing that?" Korra says eventually.

"Doing what?"

"Being so...patient. I want to jump right out of my skin."

Asami sighs. "Funnily enough, Korra, I'm used to being sidelined like this. Happened once or twice while Team Avatar was still out there saving the world."

Korra takes a second to reply. "That – that was different."

"Different circumstances, same result."

"It's not like it happened on purpose," Korra begins earnestly, "it's just that it was...more dangerous...for you...because bending...dangerous..."

Asami looks up from the nails she's been inspecting while Korra trails off into awkward silence, with nothing more than a slightly arched brow for a response.

Korra deflates even further.

"Why don't you come and sit?" Asami suggests.

Korra reluctantly complies. Before realising it, however, she has the bunch of cellophane wrapped tulips in hand while sitting right beside the woman who bought them for her. It gives them both pause. Korra doesn't quite relax into her seat, tension in her posture. The air still isn't clear between them.

"It's your turn now, I think," Asami says then, looking ahead. "I deserve an explanation."

Korra can already guess where this is going.

"I feel like you betrayed me," Asami says after a long moment. "Kuvira's actions brought harm to so many people. She forced an entire nation into servitude; she destroyed half of Republic City and...She killed my father, Korra." Asami finally turns around, meeting her eyes. "That woman deserved to rot in prison, and yet you kept visiting her. You _defended_ her instead of doing everything in your power to lock her right back up again."

Korra swallows. "Yes, I did."

"Why?"

"It's rare," she says slowly, "that you get a chance to look in the mirror, and see yourself for what you really are."

Asami stares at her, brow furrowed with a deep frown. Korra's simple answer is not enough for her. So she continues on.

"Kuvira is what I could have become, had I made a different set of choices," Korra tells her. "And believe me, Asami, in my life I've come so close to making them."

She looks down at the flowers in her hand, remembering the field of vibrant purple petals in which she and Kuvira stood opposite one another, seeing each other anew. Seeing each other for what they both were; two sides of the same coin.

"You all saw a broken woman when Kuvira and I came out of the Spirit Portal," Korra tells Asami. "I watched her break."

"And you pitied her, after everything she'd done?" Asami says. "After she tried to kill _you_?"

"After what I saw, after I understood who Kuvira was and what drove her, I couldn't help but show her compassion," Korra says. "Is that so wrong?"

"Is it so wrong that all I wanted was justice?"

"You wanted revenge," Korra says quietly.

Asami's reply is harsh as she looks away. "What's the difference?"

"The difference is revenge makes you push away everyone who wants to help you," Korra tells her. "It makes you push away those you love."

The lobby is quiet. Silence rests between them before Korra fills it.

"If you had seen her while she was in there, the way they strung her up in her cell, you would've thought that justice had been more than served," she says, and then she swallows. "If...if you knew what I do now, what happened to her in there? She's human, like you and I. No one deserves to be treated like an animal."

"I'm sorry," Asami speaks up eventually, and those two simple words are the most heartfelt Korra has ever heard from her. She reaches over and lays a hand lightly on her arm.

"I'm sorry too."

Asami glances down as Korra makes contact, and would've smiled and looked up to meet her eyes had she not noticed the ring of pink skin around her wrist, exposed by the cuff of Korra's jacket sliding up. However, the question tip-toeing its way to her lips is forgotten in a moment. Because suddenly in swing the Headquarters' doors, permitting a procession of metalbenders to begin streaming into the lobby. At the helm of the bustling ship is none other than the Chief. Lin's eyes find the two young women almost immediately.

"We've got it," she says.


	11. Chapter 11

Varrick shakes back his sleeve and glances down at his wrist. "Mr. President..."

"Chief Beifong will be here in short order, I am sure."

"So you say," replies Varrick, "but time is money and I'm getting poorer by the minute!"

Asami, sitting in a leather-backed armchair in front of the President with arms folded and foot tapping, turns with a thin eyebrow raised. Varrick raises his hands.

"It's just a figure of speech," he says, before looking at his watch again. "Six figures at this rate."

Korra huffs impatiently. "Where is she? Lin was right behind us when we left."

Just an hour ago she, Asami and the Chief stand around the recovered debending machine, its creator nervously chewing on her lip as they all stare at the tall, steel-cased device atop which sits a cylindrical glass tube housing a pair of rubber clasps. A shrunken twist of spirit vine lies at the bottom, pulsing with soft light. Lin and her metalbenders fall on the Equalists just as they sap the bending from another unfortunate soul.

A large case sits on the ground between the women in which are stored small, glowing vials recovered along with the machine. One among them, the brightest, flits between radiant hues of colour with the rhythm of a heartbeat. Korra can't take her eyes off it as Lin announces she's going to organise a meeting with the President neither of them have any choice but to attend.

It's at that moment Raiko's door swings open, garnering the immediate attention of four pairs of eyes. The woman who walks through it, however, is not the one they are all expecting.

Korra blinks, hood slipping back to expose her shaven head. " _Kuvira?_ "

Indeed. Dressed in loose trousers and a plain shirt beneath the long coat provided to her, the former Great Uniter projects none of the intimidating aura that was once synonymous with her presence. Instead, she brings into the room a great deal of a different sort of tension. That which is sparked the moment she and Asami meet eyes.

Kuvira pauses in her stride and the silence that follows thickens the air like syrup. Her throat pulses as though she has something to say, but then Asami's gaze shifts – first to Korra, who is effectively standing between them, then to Raiko.

"Why is _she_ here?"

Raiko looks stumped; not exactly an uncommon appearance in the man's political career. But then his skin is saved, yet again, by Lin, who marches into the office a moment later. Raiko wastes no time jumping right on the woman.

"Chief Beifong, what is the meaning of this?"

"Of what?" she replies, pulling Kuvira forward by the elbow into the room proper - who the President immediately gestures towards.

"I was not given warning that you would be bringing a guest."

"Appropriate security measures are in place," Lin tells him.

" _That_ is not all I have concerns about," Raiko says, with a certain glance in the direction of the woman beside her.

The Chief rolls her eyes. "For goodness' sake. Kuvira, hands."

There's almost a hesitant second before she complies. The sleeves of her coat slip away to expose bare skin as the woman holds out her arms. Lin reaches down to her belt, retrieves a pair of cuffs and slaps them over her wrists.

"Is that better?" Lin asks the room at large.

"I feel slightly more comfortable," Varrick replies.

Raiko, however, disagrees. "The fact that you restrained a metalbender through such means?"

The Chief's eyes roll once more. She turns and cinches Kuvira's cuffs tighter. "There. Not much else I can do besides have her stand in a corner and think about what she's done while the grown-ups talk."

"She isn't a child, Lin," Korra speaks up.

"No, but this argument is childish," the Chief says plainly. "I wouldn't bring Kuvira here if I had concerns for anyone's safety, and certainly not if she wasn't going to be useful."

"Useful?" the President repeats, with more than a little scepticism.

"Yes, Raiko, because she's going to help save your ass."

* * *

"I need to say something before you begin."

Kuvira is seated, occupying one of two armchairs situated in front of the President's desk. Asami, stoic and silent, has not moved from the other. Not much more than an arm's length separates them. It's to her that Kuvira eventually turns.

"Ms. Sato," the woman says with a careful tone, "would it mean anything to you, if I apologised?"

Asami finally speaks for the first time since Lin entered the office. "No. But you should do it anyway."

"Then, I'm sorry. I have no excuses."

Asami doesn't reply, doesn't nod or even look at Kuvira in acknowledgement of her words. Standing just behind her, Korra's grip loosens ever so slightly on the back of the leather chair. Met with silence, Kuvira blinks, and then her eyes fall to her lap as she sits back in her own chair.

"Right," Varrick says then, "shall we get on with it? Zhu Li is a nightmare to deal with when I don't stick to her daily schedules. Hell, it took some work convincing her I had to attend this meeting, let me tell you!"

"Yes, what is this about?" Raiko directs at Lin.

"I assume you heard my address this morning," the Chief says without preamble, standing at Kuvira's shoulder.

"I certainly heard the gaggle of reporters clamouring to get into City Hall right afterwards."

"Good," Lin replies, "because the reason I sent them over here was the fact that you turned your nose up at a perfectly good proposal offered by the Avatar – one we all agreed upon – in favour of the current mess we now face courtesy of the infernal machine you two dreamed up."

Varrick raises a hand to his chest in offence as the Chief points in their direction. "My good woman, we were innovating!"

Asami sits up in her chair, her sullenness vanishing in an instant at the blunt accusation. "Lin, I -"

"Spare me," she says curtly. "I've no words to mince with either of you. Or you," Lin adds, jabbing a finger at the President. "You signed off on _their_ proposal with no outside consultation and withheld information as to its design and purpose until the day of that blasted demonstration."

"I acted as such in the best interests of the public," Raiko replies, but Lin cuts him off before he can get out another word.

" _Spare me,_ " she says again. "You acted in your own interests which you thought the public would best approve of, as always. Well let me tell you something, your approval rating is going to plummet unless you listen very carefully to what we're going to do about it."

The tightness in Raiko's face is evident as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I'm listening."

"Good," Lin says, and then rounds on the industrialists. "Tell your wife your schedule is fully booked, Varrick, because you and Asami are both going to be working full-time coming up with a solution to the problem you helped create."

Varrick, predictably, has his complaint ready. "Full-time? I have a business to run, ideas to borrow from their originators, leisures to pursue!"

"I'd wager Zhu Li Global Industries will run just fine, as it always has," the Chief replies shortly, before turning to Asami. "And your excuse?"

Asami swallows, glancing up and behind her at Korra. "I don't have one," she tells Lin, "I'm prepared to commit as many resources as necessary to reversing the effects of the debending machine."

"Glad to hear it," the Chief says, now turning back to the President, "and so will the public."

Raiko is already taking notes.

"While you're at it," she tells him, "we're going back to the original plan, starting with Kuvira training my metalbenders."

Raiko begins to frown. Lin rolls her eyes a third time. "What's the problem? You agreed to this idea in the first place."

The President clears his throat. "I do not believe, given recent...unfortunate circumstances, that the public will be as receptive to it."

"To it, or to you?"

"Kuvira is a war criminal, Chief Beifong."

"I'm aware. She's also the only person in the entire world who can bend platinum."

"Who do you think that mere detail will appease?"

"It appeases me," Lin replies, "because by way of platinumbending I will have more secure facilities in which to put up the worst of the city's scum - at a lesser cost to Republic City might I add, which in turn frees up more space in conventional facilities for the regular scum, which means I'll not only be saving you a tidy sum of yuans in the long term but also effectively clearing the streets upon which you can safely campaign for re-election."

Raiko takes pause. "On one condition," he says then.

"Which is?"

"Your metalbenders should be able to pass on the knowledge they will gain themselves. So, as a show of a good faith, Kuvira will agree to be confined once a suitable number of people have been trained."

The woman looks up as the President speaks. He carefully avoids her eyes.

"You want me to go back to prison?"

"Lin?" Raiko says.

She folds her arms, mouth a thin, tight line. "I believe my metalbenders are capable enough, yes."

Kuvira sits up. "You want me to go back to prison."

"So we have an agreement," Raiko replies, looking over her head. "In a show of good faith."

Lin gives an arguably non-committal shrug. Raiko is quick to interpret it otherwise.

"That's settled then," the man says, collecting his notes together. "Kuvira, I think you should be able to understand the need -"

"I refuse!"

The room jumps. The chain between her cuffs jangles as Kuvira's fists slam down onto the President's desk. He is no longer so confidently poised in his seat.

"E-excuse me?"

"I will _not_ be placed under the care of your system ever again."

Raiko stares at her for a long moment, before chuckling disbelievingly. "Kuvira, you are certainly not in the position to -"

"Those guards are fortunate I only opened the door of my cell," she cuts across the man, voice cold and sharp, "and that I did not drag _every last one_ of them into it."

"By goodness, look at the time!" Varrick exclaims out of the blue, shaking back his sleeve to show them all. "Wonderful meeting but I must be off, the wife will flay me alive. Asami, call me. Actually, call Zhu Li; I never answer telephone calls!"

And without another word (though he does spare the time for a nervous backwards glance) he dashes to safety.

Lin, who moves around to the side of Raiko's desk so she can look Kuvira in the eye, pays no attention to Varrick's sudden exit. In fact, it seems Asami is the only one to notice, half turned in her seat with an uncertain gaze being cast back and forth from the door Varrick just disappeared through. Despite his many (many) flaws, the man had an uncannily timely sense for when things were about to go wrong.

"What are you talking about, Kuvira?" the Chief asks then. "What happened?"

She is slow to answer, partly because she turns her head towards Korra, and when their eyes meet Korra is standing across from the woman in Lin's apartment, for the first time truly understanding what she's been through.

"Abuse," Kuvira says then, "of power and position."

Lin blinks. It takes her a moment. But then it dawns on her, and her nostrils flare like they're about to spit out flames.

" _What?_ " the woman hisses. "When? Who? Why am I only hearing about this now?!"

"Because the only time I saw you was the day you put me away."

"Then why didn't you tell me after you went and pulled open the damn door?" the Chief demands.

Kuvira looks at her with hard, fierce eyes. "You don't understand. I would have ripped that whole place to pieces. You have no idea how difficult it was to merely sit there and wait."

Lin frowns. "Wait for what?"

"For Korra."

Who swallows as the weight of the room's attention suddenly falls on her, having no idea where to point her own eyes until Kuvira starts to speak again.

"Korra was the only one who visited me; she was the _only_ thing I had to remind myself I wasn't living in a recurring nightmare. Without that, I..."

Kuvira trails off uncharacteristically, staring down at her bound hands. Lines are etched across her face, into the pained frown across her brow and the sunken look to her cheeks. It's a surprise to all when her head practically whips around to face Asami.

"I know what I did," she says solemnly. "Nothing I ever do or say will give you any comfort. So take from me like I did you. Take my bending; just _take it._ Lock me away in a box and let that be the end of it. Because I've learned I don't deserve anything more. I've learned -"

Kuvira falls short again, but this time not of her own accord. Rather because Korra has just grabbed her arm and proceeded to drag the woman out of her chair.

"Excuse us," she says simply, "we need to talk."

* * *

Korra rounds on Kuvira the moment they're out of earshot of the pair of metalbenders posted outside the President's office, which is a good length down the open corridor. With the balcony that overlooks City Hall's atrium to her left, Korra spins round after pulling Kuvira past her and practically snarls in her face.

"I don't ever want to hear something like that from you again, got it?"

Kuvira blinks, clearly taken aback by the force in Korra's voice. "Yes, ma'am," she replies eventually.

Korra narrows her eyes. "And don't call me that."

"Ma'am?"

"Yes, that."

"As you say..."

Korra waits. The two women watch each other, Kuvira taller, thinner and in time, perhaps despite herself, with the smallest of quirks to her lips as Korra pre-emptively huffs.

"I'm not going to say it," she tells her.

"Good, because it makes me feel old."

"Not wise and respected?"

"No," Korra answers. She turns and leans against the balcony, folding her arms on top of the railing. "Just old."

"Be honest with me, and yourself," she says then. "Did you really mean what you said?"

"I did when I was in there," Kuvira replies after a quiet moment.

"What does that mean?"

Kuvira shrugs. "You pulled me out here to talk."

_So talk._

And Korra does so.

"I want you to help me rebuild Republic City."

Kuvira stares at her.

"I want you to help me rebuild people's homes," Korra continues, "their lives, their communities. I want to change the way they look at the world for the better."

"I'm a war criminal," Kuvira says quietly. "You heard the President."

"And I think you can make a bigger difference not being locked up in a box to rot away for the rest of your life."

Kuvira's answering smile is completely devoid of humour.

"Who do you think you're going to convince with that line, Korra?" she says. "After all the things I did? The people I hurt? No one is going to believe I've turned over a new leaf. No one will want _my_ help."

"You said you trusted me," Korra reminds her. "You said you wanted me to find the woman I helped save when they rang the alarms after you broke open your cell, and I did. Now I want to show the world what that woman has to offer it."

"Bloodstained hands?" Kuvira says, raising the cuffed pair and shaking the chain between them.

Korra brushes that aside. "You have a gift," she tells the woman. "You can do something no one else can."

"That just makes me dangerous," Kuvira replies, looking away.

Korra slowly lowers the hood she's been keeping tugged up over her head. "Then what am I?"

It takes a while for the woman to turn back to her, and Kuvira sighs heavily when she finally does. "You're the Avatar."

"Being able to bend all four elements was a nice perk," Korra says with something of a sad smile, "but it's not all there is to it. I've learned that lesson. It's about making the calls no one else can, or will. It's about believing in people, believing in the good of humanity."

"How can you believe there is any good in me," Kuvira says, "after what I did to you?"

Korra exhales through her nostrils, turning once again to look over the railing. "I know what monsters – real monsters – look like," she replies. "You're not one of them."

Kuvira snorts. "You can't say that -"

"Yes, I can," Korra interjects, rounding on her, "because I believe you deserve a second chance. A chance to put things right again."

"What if you're wrong?" the woman asks eventually, quietly, as though the question ought not to have been asked. But it's too late to pull it back.

"Then my name and reputation will be utterly ruined. Maybe that of the Avatar for generations to come. Because that's what I'm staking on you."

It's a long moment before Kuvira finally sighs, shaking her head in disbelief. "Alright," she says, meeting Korra's determined gaze, "I'll help you."


	12. Chapter 12

"Let's go again."

Asami brings her hands up to her hair, fashioning a messy tail close to her nape that for the most part keeps dark locks out of her face. Meanwhile across from her Asami's sparring partner tiredly pushes off the ground, a tilt of the head to either side followed by a roll or two of the shoulders. Asami strikes up a stance and her opponent takes theirs, and then after a steadying breath and an exchange between a pair of narrowed eyes, the two fling themselves at each other.

It doesn't take long for the fight to go to the ground, whereupon Asami swiftly ends it. Her whole body is wrapped around her opponent's left arm, hips just behind the joint of the elbow and long, bare limbs that extend out from the bottom of her shorts draped over their face keeping them exactly where Asami wants. Of course this is only sparring, so they aren't trying to hurt each other. Which is why her partner is trying to muscle out of the lock, attempting to swing a free arm over Asami's legs and grab at the wrist hugged securely to her chest. Given enough time and effort they'd probably succeed; Asami doesn't match up in terms of raw strength. So she gives her partner a gentle, very brief reminder of what she _can_ do.

"Argh! Uncle uncle!"

Asami's already let up before they finish practically screaming. "Goodness, Korra," she chuckles, unwrapping her legs, "anyone would think I'm trying to kill you."

Korra pouts. "That felt like my arm was about to snap in half."

"Nonsense," Asami says as she sits up, "I wouldn't take it that far. Besides, you didn't know when to quit. I had you beat."

"You don't quit in the middle of a fight."

"We're not fighting," Asami replies, watching as Korra once again pushes off the ground. "We're sparring."

"Same difference," Korra says impatiently. "Come on, one more round."

Asami delays the inevitable, offering up a crooked smile. "You sure? I've won every single one so far."

"Warm ups. Been feeling you out. This is the only one that counts."

Asami shrugs and holds up a hand for Korra to pull her to her feet. "If you say so."

A minute later Korra is flat out on her back, pinned to the mat by her wrists and Asami's weight squarely on her hips. She doesn't even try to fight back. Asami smirks down at her.

"You were saying?"

"I give up. You win."

"Oh? What was all that before, about not quitting?"

"You're obviously better than me."

Asami chuckles softly. "Well that's no surprise. You're still throwing out strikes as if there's something extending six feet off the end of them."

Korra arches her brow. "What does that mean?"

"You're fighting like a bender," Asami replied. "I promised my father that would be a fight I'd never lose."

She straightens then, releasing Korra's arms. The act exposes the flesh of her wrists, but thanks to a quiet visit to a waterbender the pink rings that once marred them have faded away. Those questions are forgotten now, but even had she remembered them the sight of Korra lying underneath her serves to be quite distracting. The rise and fall of her chest, trapped in a now damp vest that perhaps fits a little _too_ well; the gleaming sheen sweat affords her skin,and the pulse of a throat drawing Asami's eyes as Korra swallows down air. That would be her first target, where she'd let her lips settle until – and it wouldn't take long – Korra softly whines, melting like chocolate on the tip of her tongue.

But it's only been almost two weeks since they sat together in the lobby of Republic City Police Headquarters, and a rather busy pair for both at that. They haven't had much time to themselves and when they have, all they've done is talk – and not necessarily about the things they need to. This sparring session is as physical as the two have been in a while. So rather than let her hands wander like they sorely want to, Asami uses them to steady herself as she swings a leg over Korra's body and vacates the perch of her hips. Bright blue eyes follow her as she sits down on the mat of her dedicated training room.

"What's up?" Korra asks. "You've a face like you want to say something."

She does, but it takes her a while to actually say it. In the meantime Asami fidgets with her hands, not quite looking Korra in the eye. She wonders if she's lost her mind.

"I want to talk to Kuvira."

* * *

Korra has a lot of questions to ask, Asami can see that by the look on her face. However the only one that makes it to her lips is perhaps the simplest and most complicated.

"But...why?"

Asami tells herself it's because all efforts to reverse the effects of the debending machine have ground to an absolute halt and she desperately needs new perspective. She isn't sure what to tell Korra. In fact, Asami initially debated not telling her about her intentions at all. Better not to make the same mistake twice, though. So she tells Korra that this is something she just needs to do.

"Okay. Do you want me to come with? I can clear my schedule."

No, but thank you. She has to do this by herself.

The Chief of Police doesn't think that's a bright idea.

* * *

When the door swings open it's more a surprise for the woman who walks through it than the two waiting inside the room.

"Miss Sato?"

Kuvira stops short. She is refused an answer when asking the identity of her visitor, only told that she has one when a pair of metalbenders come to escort her to Chief Beifong's office. She doesn't think to argue and obediently leaves behind the hall in which she has been teaching Republic City's finest. So-called, at least. Given the initial spiel Kuvira is given in briefing before resuming her efforts in passing on the skill of platinumbending, she is led to believe her students are practically prodigies. Either way, Kuvira's quiet frustrations matter very little in the face of what – or rather who sits at Lin's desk in front of her.

"Stop gawking and take a seat," the Chief says, herself leaning against one of the filing cabinets lined up along the side wall.

Eventually, Kuvira does so, the chair's feet scraping across the floor as it slides out from underneath Lin's desk. It's a large desk, but not enough to in any way cut through the palpable tension that hangs in the air between the two women on either side of it. On her side, Asami sits straight-backed with her hands clasped together on top of a black binder. Her hair is neatly pulled back away from her face and the expression that bears is firmly neutral. She gives off the aura of a woman here to do business and nothing more. There is something odd about her eyes however; Kuvira can immediately tell that Asami isn't look _at_ her, but through her.

"I need you to take a look at these documents," she says flatly, turning the binder to face Kuvira and opening it up. "It contains the designs for the debending machine Varrick and I created. I'd like your opinion on them."

Kuvira doesn't even glance at the files as they are pushed across the desk towards her. Instead her eyes remain on Asami, who is now looking slightly past her left ear. The woman frowns.

"I'm not an engineer."

"You worked closely with Baatar, surely you can -"

"I trusted Baatar enough to leave him to his own devices," Kuvira says bluntly. It stings to hear his name; it twists something deep inside to hear it fall from her own lips. "I cared only that his machines worked, not for the technicalities. If that is what concerns you then I'm sure discussing it with him will be a more worthwhile use of your time."

And all it would take is a visit to his cell. Because Kuvira knows Baatar is incarcerated along with her in the same prison. Just as she knows that by the strict instruction of Suyin Beifong, she is never allowed to lay eyes on him ever again.

"That won't be necessary," Asami replies stiffly.

"I can't help you with this," Kuvira says with a shrug, pushing the binder back towards her. "But that isn't why you're here."

"Then why am I?"

"You tell me, Miss Sato."

Asami huffs, abandoning her rigid posture and throwing herself back into her chair. Lin's chair, actually. Who casually reminds the young woman that she'll pay for one custom built to the Chief's comfort if she breaks it. Kuvira in the meantime sits quietly, watching as the younger woman drums her fingers against the edge of the desk. It's an angry, confused rhythm that persists for several seconds, flesh beating against old wood. Until it eventually stops, and Asami finally speaks.

"Korra won't stop talking about you."

Kuvira blinks. "Oh?"

"About your progress," Asami goes on, "as a teacher. She sounds proud of you."

It's true that Korra has been visiting often, certainly not every day but frequently enough over the last two weeks, always with a warm, encouraging smile as she watches Kuvira working with a group of metalbenders. However, 'progress'?

"What progress?" Lin scoffs. "My people still can't lift a scrap of platinum."

"I must agree," Kuvira says plainly, the tail of her braid swaying against her nape when she shakes her head. "Korra speaks too highly of me."

"Then maybe she sees something the rest of us don't."

Asami looks up from her hands then, squarely meeting Kuvira's eyes. This time, she isn't looking past or through her. She's looking right at her.

"My father is dead."

Kuvira doesn't respond, but the implications are clear.

"What would you do," Asami says then, "if you were sitting where I am?"

"I'd kill you."

The woman blinks, her eyes round. She clearly isn't expecting so blunt a response. But then Asami doesn't understand what she's really asking. What would she, _Kuvira,_ do? There is no 'probably', no 'I'd try and...'. The question answers itself, and the woman means every single word of it.

Asami clears her throat, attempting to pick up after her stumble into silence. "Exactly. That's – that's why Lin wouldn't let me meet with you alone."

Kuvira briefly turns her eyes towards the Chief. "Hm."

Lin arches an eyebrow; Asami frowns. "What?"

"You are not an individual with that sort of conviction," Kuvira says.

"Was that a question?"

"No."

Asami's mouth tightens. "Well you're wrong, because I've already done just that. The debending machine? Varrick had lofty ideas about changing the commercial landscape, 'bending in a bottle' as he called it. He could have melted down actual piles of yuans and built himself a mansion with the profits that would rake in. But me?" the young woman says, a raw edge to her voice, "I didn't care about _any_ of that. The only reason I helped him research and build the damn thing was you, Kuvira. So I could use it on _you._ "

"Now we're getting somewhere," Lin mutters from her corner.

Kuvira's expression does not change for the longest moment. She watches Asami, taking note of the way her hands have clenched into fists, digging nails into the flesh of her palm. There's heat in her gaze, a glare that would make anyone else flinch, but moisture too, clinging to the edges by a gossamer thread. However, most importantly, Kuvira sees that she is holding back. And not from leaping across Lin's desk to wrap those trembling hands around her throat and squeeze the life out of her eyes, no.

Because that's simply something Asami Sato could never do.

Kuvira leans forward, resting her chin on interlocked fingers. "Did you, really?"

Asami's brow furrows. "Did I what?"

"Did you really intend, after completing development of your machine, to seek me out in prison, drag me out of my cell and strap me into this?" Kuvira says, pointing at the pages of the open binder that lies between them.

Asami has no response, but she does not look at ease.

"Would you have been prepared to activate the machine yourself," Kuvira continues, "to pump countless volts of electricity through my body and make it rattle against that chair?"

Asami's voice is thick when she replies. "I already did, with Bao."

"You only watched. You didn't make it happen."

Lin re-crosses her arms with an impatient roll of the eyes. "Get to the point, Kuvira."

The woman sighs heavily and her gaze drops away from Asami into her own lap. When she speaks, it's in a voice weighted with melancholy.

"I was the Colossus' pilot; every move it made was my decision. _I_ took aim at that factory. _I_ fired the shot that would have killed my fiancé. I wish I didn't, that I couldn't. But I _can_ , and I _did_."

Kuvira looks up again and, as Lin watches intently, her eyes meet squarely with Asami's.

"I loved that man," the woman says softly, swallowing a lump in her throat. "I still love him. But I don't back away from the hard choices. Were our positions reversed, I'd have told Baatar to fire on me. I would _make_ him do it, because all of it – every last sacrifice I made during my campaign, it was all for the sake of the Earth Kingdom's people. My people. Nothing was more important." she blinks then, and looks away. "Some things...should have been."

"You crossed the line long before you marched that platinum monstrosity into my city, Kuvira."

"I know," she replies to Lin, "I made that choice. I accepted its consequences." She turns to look across the desk. "Could you?"

The silence that stretches between them is poignant, until Asami finally breaks it.

"I can't forget what you did."

"And you won't forgive me either," Kuvira finishes.

Asami doesn't reply.

"I don't expect you to," the woman continues.

"I never said I couldn't. My father...he made his choices in life. I know which ones he regretted, but in the end he made his peace. With himself, and with me," Asami says. "Now, I have to make peace with that."

Kuvira gives her an empty smile. "I don't need seismic sense to tell me you're lying to yourself. Making peace with your father's death is not the same thing as forgiving me. And you shouldn't. No one should. That is something I simply can't earn."

"I thought a shot a redemption was the whole point you're doing all this," Lin interjects plainly. "Isn't that why Korra dragged your ass out of Raiko's office? You were a whole lot more agreeable when you walked back in."

"The Avatar is very persuasive; she says the right things in the moment. But you said it yourself, this isn't working. Your metalbenders can't learn from me."

"Well it's a bit late to start with the whole woe is me routine, Kuvira," Lin replies. "You'd better figure something out. There's no point putting you back in prison now is there?"

"How did you do it?" Asami says then.

Kuvira tilts her head. "Do what?"

"How did you get out of there? As I understand it your entire surroundings down there were made of platinum, essentially taking away your ability to bend. And yet you managed to despite the fact."

Kuvira looks at Asami for a long moment, before her eyes dip to the binder that still lies open between them. "So, this is about the machine."

"Partly," Asami says, followed by a heavy sigh. "Varrick and I have hit a dead end. Our calculations appear at first to check out, but all preliminary tests have failed to produce the desired results. The spirit vines aren't proving cooperative with our methods to extract their stored energy in the form we'd like."

Lin frowns. "Meaning?"

"They explode."

"That's...not good."

"No, it's not." Asami turns to Kuvira. "So I want to know how you did it. It's reaching I know; the circumstances are different. But I just need some new ideas, a different way to look at the problem."

"I think the Avatar's perspective would prove more useful."

"I can't talk to Korra about this. Her loss of bending is my fault. How am I supposed to tell her I don't know how to give it back?"

"We could, now," Kuvira says, indicating herself and Lin.

Asami's glare is sharper than a shard of glass. "Neither of you would be so stupid."

Kuvira sits back in her chair, limbs heavy in a sense of resignation. Like they're chained to walls once more.

"Imagine you are in a room," she says quietly, "a room with no way out."


End file.
